ilSg! 


J  czew- 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of- North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


http://www.archive.org/details/ruthallertonmissOOhart 


Hutt)  SUlertort. — JTronttsptrrE. 


<L&,m:^ 


'Faix.  ma'am,"  said  Bridget,  "  it's  aisy  to  see  the  child  has  been 
living  amongst  the  haythen.''  p.  26. 


RUTH  ALLERTON, 


THE    MISSIONARY'S    DAUGHTER. 


PHILADELPHIA : 

AMERICAN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION, 

1122  Chestnut  Street. 


New  York  :  No.  8  and  10  Bible  House,  Astor  Place. 


"\0 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by  the 

AMERICAN  SUNDAY-SCHOOL    UNION, 

In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Westcott  <fe  Thomson,  Hrnry  B.  Ashmead, 

Stereotypcrs,  Philada.  Jointer,  Philada. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAGB 

My  Guests  from  Africa , 9 


CHAPTER   II. 
Ruth's  First  Day  at  Ferndale 20 

CHAPTER    HI. 
New  Friends,  New  Plans,  and  a  Story 80 

CHAPTER   IV. 
Sunday  Incidents,  and  a  Busy  Week 41 

CHAPTER   V. 
A  Lesson  in  Charity 53 

CHAPTER   VI. 
The  School  and  the  Teacher 64 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Ruth's  Visit  to  New  York 75 

1*  5 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

PAGE 

Thanksgiving-Day  Resolutions 88 

CHAPTER    IX. 
A  Quarrel  at  School 100 

CHAPTER    X. 
Little  Johnny's  Death Ill 

CHAPTER   XI. 
Ruth's  First  Sleigh-Ride 121 

CHAPTER    XII. 
The  Chameleon 131 

CHAPTER    XIII. 
The  Cost  op  Ruth's  Silk  Dress 143 

CHAPTER    XIV. 
Changes 153 

CHAPTER    XV. 
Deliverance  from  Death 164 

CHAPTER   XVI. 
Orphan  Grace 178 

CHAPTER   XVH. 
A  Changed  Heart 190 


CONTENTS.  7 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

PAOR 

Ruth's  Visitors 202 

CHAPTER    XIX. 
Alice  King's  Secret 220 

CHAPTER   XX. 
An  Evening  at  the  Parsonage 238 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
A  Great  Sorrow 252 

CHAPTER    XXII. 
Self-Consecration 264 

CHAPTER    XXHI. 
Ruth's  Return  to  Africa 275 


RUTH  ALLERTON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

MY  GUESTS  FROM  AFRICA. 

PUSHED  the  little  rocking-chair  into 
the  pleasantest  corner  of  the  room, 
put  a  few  more  coals  on  the  fire,  and 
changed,  for  the  fourth  or  fifth  time, 
the  position  of  the  vase  which  held 
one  sorry-looking  rose,  tied  up  with  a  good 
many  geranium  leaves  to  make  it  look  as  much 
as  possible  like  a  bouquet.  It  was  the  last 
week  of  October, — a  time  of  year  when  all  the 
glory  of  summer  and  early  autumn  has  left  us, 
and  the  cheery  sights  and  sounds  of  winter 
are  too  far  in  the  future  to  aid  us  in  dispelling 
present  gloom.  It  was  one  of  those  undecided 
days  when  the  sun  refused  to  shine  and  the 
rain  seemed  filling  the  air,  yet  could  not  ex- 
actly make  up  its  mind  to  fall  to  the  earth. 
The  weather  was  of  that  sort  that  always  op- 

9 


10  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

presses  me,  just  as  does  the  presence  of  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  people  who  are  neither  good 
enough  to  love  and  respect  nor  bad  enough  to 
dislike  and  find  fault  with,  and  so  are  simply- 
disagreeable. 

I  cared  a  good  deal  that  the  room  wherein 
I  was  thus  arranging  things  should  have  a 
cozy,  welcoming  aspect,  that  the  fire  should 
blaze  its  brightest,  and  the  poor,  lonely  rose 
in  the  vase  make  the  most  show  it  could  at  the 
moment  when  Euth  should  enter  the  door. 
Poor  little  Euth!  would  she  be  happy  with 
me,  her  quiet  middle-aged  aunt,  whom  she 
had  never  seen?  Would  she  not  be  homesick 
for  that  distant  sunny  land  where  all  her  short 
life  had  been  passed,  and  find  it  hard  to  get 
used  to  our  New  England  habits  as  well  as  the 
cold  climate?  These  questions  I  asked  my- 
self, and  many  more,  as  I  sat  waiting  for  the 
sound  of  carriage-wheels  to  approach  my  door. 

Ten  years  ago  I  had  sat  in  the  same  seat 
at  the  parlour  window,  listening  with  heavy 
heart  to  that  very  sound,  but  then  it  was  of 
carriage-wheels  turning  from  the  door,  and 
bearing  from  me  the  dear  young  sister  who 
was  all  I  had  in  the  world  to  love.  Her 
Saviour  had  called  her  to  enter  upon  the 


MY  GUESTS   FROM   AFRICA.  11 

highest  work  he  has  left  his  people  to  do ;  he 
had  put  in  her  heart  a  yearning  after  perish- 
ing souls  that  nothing  would  satisfy  but  actual 
labour  among  the  heathen.  When,  therefore,  a 
devoted  missionary,  who  had  come  home  for  a 
short  respite  from  his  toil,  asked  Lucy  to  re- 
turn with  him  as  his  wife,  she  answered  fear- 
lessly and  joyfully,  "I  will  go."  I,  and  indeed 
all  her  friends,  had  tried  to  hold  her  back  from 
this  sacrifice  of  home,  outward  comforts,  health, 
and  perhaps  life,  but  she  looked  sadly  at  us, 
as  if  pitying  our  lack  of  faith,  and  said  only : 
"  It  will  seem  a  little  thing  to  give  up  these  if 
Christ  will  only  let  me  win  some  of  those  poor 
heathen  souls  to  him."  We  had  no  arguments 
to  use  against  this,  and  so  we  let  her  go  to  join 
the  little  mission-band  on  the  coast  of  Africa 
among  whom  her  husband  had  already  spent 
several  years.  As  time  passed,  and  her  letters 
came  filled  with  incidents  of  missionary  life, 
and  breathing  such  whole-hearted  content  in 
her  work,  we  saw  that  she  had  been  right,  and 
that  we  had  been  worldly  and  short-sighted  in 
our  opposition.  Even  when,  last  summer,  there 
came,  instead  of  the  expected  letter  from  Lucy, 
a  few  trembling  lines  from  her  stricken  hus- 
band, telling  how  the  dreaded  coast  fever  had 


12  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

stopped  her  in  the  midst  of  her  duties,  and 
after  three  days  of  suffering  had  opened  for 
her  the  gates  of  eternal  life,  through  which 
she  joyfully  passed  to  her  Saviour;  even  then, 
despite  my  grief,  I  could  say  from  my  heart, 
It  is  well !  I  would  not  have  it  otherwise  if  I 
could. 

The  next  mail  from  Africa  brought  me 
another  letter  from  the  bereaved  missionary. 
My  thoughts  lingered  anxiously  over  one  por- 
tion of  it,  which  ran  thus : 

"I  have  an  important  request  to  make  of 
you,  Sister  Phebe.  Are  you  willing  for  the 
sake  of  our  lost  Lucy  to  undertake  the  charge 
of  our  little  Ruth?  I  earnestly  desire  to 
place  her  under  such  motherly  care  and  holy 
influence  as  I  know  she  would  receive  from 
you.  If  it  were  well  for  the  child,  gladly 
would  I  keep  her  with  me,  for  she  is  my  only 
earthly  treasure  now,  but  a  man  is  not  fit  for 
such  a  care,  especially  a  man  whose  whole  time 
and  energies  are  demanded  by  the  wandering 
souls  and  suffering  bodies  of  a  heathen  people. 
There  are  many  temptations  here  from  which 
I  am  powerless  to  shield  my  lamb,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  risk  of  life  in  this  climate  and 
the  impossibility  of  her  gaining  a  proper  edu- 


MY   GUESTS   FROM   AFRICA.  13 

cation.  Now,  Sister  Phebe,  I  ask  you  to  lay 
this  matter  before  the  Lord  in  prayer,  and 
whatever  answer  he  gives  you  send  it  to  me." 

I  did  as  my  brother-in-law  asked;  I  prayed 
constantly  to  be  taught  the  Lord's  will  con- 
cerning myself  and  this  dear  child ;  and  when 
the  day  came  for  the  African  mail  to  be  des- 
patched, this  was  the  reply  I  sent:  "Yes, 
dear  John,  I  will  accept  the  precious  charge 
you  offer  me,  and  care  for  your  dear  Ruth 
with  all  the  wisdom  which  the  Lord  shall 
grant  me  on  her  behalf.  I  consent  gladly — be- 
cause it  will  seem  almost  like  having  our  Lucy 
at  home  again  with  me — and  at  the  same  time 
fearfully;  for  you  know,  John,  I  am  only  a 
lonely  old  maid,  unused  to  children's  ways  and 
wants,  and  much  doubt  my  ability  for  making 
a  happy  home  for  a  nine-year-old  girl.  I  will 
try  my  best,  however." 

So  it  was  that  the  close  of  October  brought 
Ruth  and  her  father  to  Ferndale,  and  so  it  was 
that  on  the  particular  afternoon  I  have  de- 
scribed I  sat  waiting  for  the  carriage  which 
should  bring  to  me,  in  the  form  of  little  Ruth, 
a  new  motive  in  life,  a  new  responsibility  for 
which  to  account  to  my  God,  and  a  new  com- 
fort to  my  lonely  heart.    Presently  old  Carlo's 


14  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

excited  bark  gave  warning  that  the  expected 
guests  had  arrived.  Bridget,  too,  who  always 
regarded  Carlo's  bark  as  prophetic  of  a  ring 
at  the  door-bell,  came  running  up  stairs,  ex- 
claiming, "Oh,  missus,  shure  there's  a  gintle- 
man  outside  with  a  face  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  and 
a  little  girl — faix,  I  can't  stop  meself  wid  laugh- 
ing at  the  quare  old  bonnet  that's  on  her." 
What  further  comments  Bridget  made  from 
her  retired  post  of  observation  I  did  not  hear, 
for  I  hurried  out  of  the  door  and  down  the 
path  to  welcome  the  long-absent  brother  and 
his  child — Lucy's  child — henceforth  to  be  to 
me  as  my  own  daughter.  I  don't  know  what  we 
said  in  that  first  moment  of  meeting.  People 
seldom  can  remember  the  first  words  spoken 
after  years  of  separation,  especially  if  those 
years  have  brought  them  a  common  sorrow, 
borne  apart.  Mr.  Allerton's  hand  trembled  as 
it  touched  mine,  and  my  eyes  were  too  full  of 
tears  to  trust  myself  with  a  second  glance  at 
his  face.  In  that  moment  we  were  both  longing 
for 

"the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still." 

I  caught  Ruth  in  my  arms  and  ran  into  the 


MY   GUESTS   FROM   AFRICA.  15 

house,  leaving  Mr.  Allerton  with  Bridget  and 
the  driver  to  take  care  of  the  trunks. 

"We  will  go  right  up  stairs,  dear,  to  your 
room,  and  see  if  we  can  warm  these  cold 
fingers  a  bit." 

It  was  a  pale  little  face  that  was  turned  up 
to  mine  with  an  answering  smile  as  we  started 
up  the  stairs  hand  in  hand — pale,  but  by  no 
means  one  of  those  wistful,  pathetic  faces  that 
one  so  often  sees  on  delicate  children. 

"Why,  Aunt  Phebe,  I  don't  believe  I  shall 
ever  be  real  warm  again.  I  suppose  you  never 
have  to  use  fans  here  in  America,  or  get  in  a 
perspiration?  That  is,"  she  proceeded  to  ex- 
plain, "when  you  are  so  hot  that  your  face 
gets  quite  wet,  just  as  if  you  had  poured  warm 
water  over  it." 

I  laughed,  and  told  her  to  wait  till  next  July 
before  she  made  up  her  mind  about  the  climate, 
— that  she  would  find  a  use  for  her  fan  by 
that  time.  Then  I  placed  the  .child  in  £he  low- 
chair  near  the  fire,  and  bade  her  warm  her  feet 
while  I  went  to  see  that  her  father  was  made 
comfortable.  When  I  returned  after  half  an 
hour's  absence,  I  found  Bridget  in  the  room, 
standing  with  arms  akimbo,  listening  to  Buth's 
description  of  the  splendid  flowers  that  grew  in 


16  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

the  mission  garden  in  Africa.  The  little  maiden 
was  holding  my  choice  bouquet  in  her  hand, 
looking  at  it  very  contemptuously.  Bridget 
had  come  up  with  some  coal  for  the  fire,  and 
had,  not  unwillingly,  been  beguiled  into  con- 
versation with  Ruth,  who  had,  since  her  mo- 
ther's death,  been  so  left  to  the  care  of  native 
servants  that  she  saw  no  impropriety  in  thus 
cultivating  the  acquaintance  of  the  good-hu- 
moured Irish  girl. 

"You  may  go  down  now,"  I  said  to  Bridget, 
"and  put  the  tea  on  the  table;"  and  when  she 
had  withdrawn,  I  sat  down  and  took  Ruth  in 
my  lap  to  get  a  good  look  at  her  face  and  see 
if  I  could  find  what  I  earnestly  desired— a 
resemblance  to  her  lost  mother.  The  child 
leaned  her  tired  head  on  my  shoulder,  and 
while  I  stroked  her  brown  curls  said  hesitat- 
ingly, "  I  know,  Aunt  Phebe,  you  are  looking 
to  see  if  I  am  like  my  mamma.  They  used  to 
say  my  eyes  were  like  hers,  and  papa  says  that 
when  I  am  a  good  girl  my  voice  sounds  as  hers 
did.  I  know  it  must  be  so,  for  sometimes  when 
papa  is  busy  thinking,  and  I  speak  to  him 
suddenly,  he  looks  up  and  says,  'What  is  it, 
Lucy?'" 

The  bell  now  rang  for  tea,  and  Ruth  and  I 


MY   GUESTS    FROM    AFRICA.  17 

went  down  stairs,  stopping  on  the  way  at  the 
parlour  door  to  summon  Mr.  Allerton.  He 
was  standing  by  the  mantel  gazing  at  an  old- 
fashioned  portrait  of  my  sister  Lucy,  but  turned 
without  a  word  and  followed  us  to  the  dining- 
room. 

"Well,  puss,  does  this  look  like  home  to 
you?"  he  asked  as  he  laid  his  hand  tenderly 
on  Kuth's  head. 

"No,  indeed!"  she  answered;  "it  is  very, 
very  different  from  home,  but  it  is  pleasant 
here,  I  think;  and,  papa,"  she  added,  with  a 
pull  at  his  coat  sleeve  to  make  him  stoop  low 
enough  to  hear  a  confidential  whisper,  which 
was  nevertheless  quite  audible  and  brought  a 
smile  to  the  faces  of  us  older  people,  "I  am 
going  to  love  Aunt  Phebe  dearly." 

We  took  our  seats  at  the  table,  and  had  a 
cheerful  chat  over  our  cups  of  tea.  Euth  did 
the  most  of  the  talking,  however.  She  specu- 
lated as  to  what  Bridget  put  in  the  biscuits  to 
make  them  puff  up  so  high,  enjoyed  the  honey, — 
the  first  she  had  ever  tasted, — and  laughed  out- 
right when  she  discovered  a  piece  of  ice  in  her 
tumbler  of  milk. 

"The  child  will  hardly  suffer  from  home- 
sickness, Phebe,"  remarked  Mr.  Allerton,  "for 

2*  B 


18  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

she  will  see  and  hear  so  many  new  and  strange 
things  that  she  will  hardly  have  time  to  think 
about  the  beautiful  palm  trees  and  her  favourite 
guavas  and  oranges,  and  strange  little  wild 
playmates,  all  left  behind  in  the  old  African 
home." 

When  the  clock  struck  eight  I  led  my  tired 
Euth  up  stairs,  and  helped  her  undress. 

"I  must  say  all  my  prayers  in  English  now, 
must  I,  auntie?" 

I  saw  she  was  hesitating  whether  to  kneel 
down  beside  me  or  by  the  bed,  so  I  drew  the 
curly  head  down  on  my  knee  and  bade  her 
pray,  for  this  night  at  least,  just  as  she  had 
been  accustomed.  I  could  not  understand 
much  of  what  she  said,  for  the  most  fervent 
requests  were  made  in  a  strange  language,  but 
when  she  spoke  in  English  her  simple,  child- 
like petitions  lifted  my  own  heart  up  with 
hers  t'6*vjjie  throne  of  grace.  She  paused 
after  asking  a  special  blessing  on  her  dear 
papa,  and  in  the  gap  where  she  used  to  put 
her  mother's  name  she  uttered  mine.  I  ac- 
cepted this  as  a  solemn  recognition  on  Ruth's 
part  of  our  future  relationship  to  each  other, 
and  resolved  anew,  as  I  tucked  in  the  bed- 
clothes and  gave   my  pet  a  good-night  kiss, 


MY   GUESTS   FROM   AFRICA.  19 

that  I  would  indeed  be  a  mother  to  her,  and 
that  no  lack  of  aught  that  my  heart  or  hand 
could  do  should  ever  remind  the  little  stranger 
of  her  orphanhood. 


«+**r 


r 


CHAPTEE    II. 

RUTH'S  FIRST  DAY  AT  FERNDALE. 

\  HE  next  morning  I  came  down  stairs 
earlier  than  usual,  in  order  to  prepare 
a  certain  kind  of  breakfast-cakes  of 
which  Mr.  Allerton  was  very  fond 
and  which  I  was  almost  sure  he  had 
not  tasted  since  his  last  visit  to  Ferndale.  I 
remembered  the  fancy  he  had  for  them  in  con- 
nection with  the  day  that  he  and  Lucy  went 
away.  We  had  the  cakes  for  breakfast  then, 
and  Lucy  laughed  at  her  husband's  appetite, 
and  said,  "  You  must  give  me  the  recipe  for 
your  cakes,  sister,  so  that  I  can  treat  my  good 
man  to  them  occasionally." 

"No,  no,  Lucy,  we  can't  indulge  in  such 
luxuries  in  Africa.  Kemember,  the  materials 
for  dainty  cooking  are  very  scarce  with  us 
poor  missionaries,  especially  such  as  we  have 
to  procure  from  America." 

I  stepped  very  softly  as  I  passed  the  bed- 
20 


ruth's  fiest  day  at  ferndale.      21 

room  next  my  own,  for  there  Kuth  slept,  and 
I  wanted  my  tired  little  girl  to  have  as  long  a 
sleep  as  possible  this  morning.  My  care  was 
needless,  however,  for  the  first  sound  my  ear 
caught  from  below  was  Kuth's  merry  laugh. 
I  found  her  on  the  floor  before  the  sitting- 
room  fire  trying  to  dress  up  the  sedate  old  cat 
in  her  doll's  clothes.  Puss  mewed  most  pa- 
thetically, but  her  tormentor  would  not  release 
her  until,  catching  sight  of  me,  her  thoughts 
were  diverted. 

"Oh,  auntie,"  she  exclaimed  between  the 
hugs  she  gave  me,  and  which,  as  I  told  her, 
she  must  have  learned  from  the  boa  constrict- 
ors of  her  native  land,  "it  is  such  a  rest  to  be 
on  shore  again,  and  be  able  to  run  about  as  one 
likes.  I  asked  Bridget  to  show  me  the  garden, 
and  she  did ;  but  I  think  you  have  a  very  poor 
garden,  Aunt  Phebe.  Why,  there  is  not  a 
flower  in  it." 

"But,  dear,  this  is  not  the  season  for  flowers. 
As  I  told  you  yesterday  about  your  fan,  only 
wait  until  summer.     Where  is  papa?" 

"Here  he  is,"  replied  a  voice  from  the  hall. 
"  I  thought  I  should  have  time  for  a  walk  before 
breakfast,  but — " 

"So  you  will,  Brother  John,"  I  interrupted, 


22  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

all  at  once  thinking  of  my  cakes,  and  that 
Bridget  must  be  looking  for  me. 

Half  an  hour  later  we  were  seated  at  break- 
fast, and  Mr.  Allerton  began  the  conversation 
by  saying: 

"I  hope  you  have  no  special  engagements 
for  to-day,  sister,  for  I  must  leave  you  again 
to-night,  and  meanwhile  we  have  many  things 
to  talk  over  together." 

"  Oh,  papa,  don't  go,  please  don't  go,  so  soon !" 
cried  Euth. 

"I  thought,  John,  we  should  have  a  good 
long  visit  this  time,"  I  said,  regretfully;  "must 
you  go?" 

"  Yes ;  you  know  a  missionary's  time  is  never 
at  his  own  disposal,  and  I  am  desired  to  visit 
several  towns  to  lecture  in  behalf  of  the  mis- 
sion. I  have  only  two  weeks  to  remain  in  the 
country,  for  a  vessel  is  to  sail  about  the  12th 
which  must  take  me  back  to  Africa." 

"So  soon!"  Euth  and  I  exclaimed  in  a 
breath. 

"Yes,  for  I  am  needed;  one  of  us  could  not 
well  be  spared  just  now,  and  I  begged  leave  of 
absence  only  long  enough  to  see  this  little  girl 
safe  with  you  before  the  weather  grew  too 
cold  to  risk  the  change  of  climate." 


ruth's  first  day  at  ferndale.      23 

When  breakfast  was  ended  and  our  morning 
prayers  offered  together,  I  asked  Mr.  Allerton 
to  come  with  me  to  the  sitting-room  for  a  quiet 
talk,  leaving  Euth  to  amuse  herself  with  pussy 
and  Carlo  and  a  box  of  puzzles  I  found  for 
her.  I  was  sure  the  active  little  woman  would 
not  suffer  for  want  of  occupation.  The  many 
things  which  we  older  people  had  to  talk  about 
led  us  more  into  the  past  than  the  future.  I 
wanted  to  hear  all  that  Mr.  Allerton  could  tell 
me  about  the  last  days  of  our  dear  Lucy,  and 
also\o  obtain  a  nearer  glimpse  into  the  details 
of  missionary  work  in  Africa  than  could  be 
gained  from  books.  Still,  the  most  important 
theme  of  our  conversation  was  little  Euth.  I 
wished  to  know  all  her  father's  wishes  in  re- 
gard to  her,  that  I  might  faithfully  discharge 
my  trust.  Her  education  had  not  been  ne- 
glected altogether :  she  had  been  a  regular  at- 
tendant of  the  mission  school  at  0 ,  and 

had  been  taught  there  by  a  most  lovely  and 
devoted  lady,  a  member  of  the  mission.  One 
can  imagine,  however,  that,  reciting  nearly  all 
her  lessons  in  the  native  language,  and  keep- 
ing pace  with  a  class  of  girls  fresh  from 
heathenism,  our  Euth's  knowledge  would  be  a 
strange  medley  indeed.     On  account  of  this, 


24  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

but  especially  through  fear  of  too  much  expo- 
sure to  the  weather  should  we  send  the  little 
African  to  a  day-school,  we  decided  to  try  and 
form  a  class  of  one  or  two  girls  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Ruth's  age,  and  engage  a  young 
lady  to  give  them  private  instruction  for  a  few 
hours  each  day.  When  this  and  other  matters 
concerning  my  charge  had  been  discussed,  and 
I  was  about  leaving  the  room  to  attend  to  some 
household  duty,  Brother  John  gently  placed 
his  hand  on  my  arm  and  arrested  my  move- 
ment toward  the  door. 

"One  thing  more,"  he  said,  "you  will  allow 
me  to  speak  about,  Sister  Phebe, — not  doubting 
that  you  would  fulfil  my  wishes  in  this  as  well 
as  everything  else,  even  if  they  were  left  un- 
expressed :  but  this  may  be  our  last  opportu- 
nity of  speaking  thus  freely  to  each  other  for 
a  long  time,  and  I  must  say  all  that  is  in  my 
heart.  You  know,  Phebe,  that  my  greatest 
desire  for  the  child  is  that  she  may  be  a 
Christian — a  whole-hearted  Christian.  Oh, 
sister,  there  is  nothing  like  missionary  life  to 
make  one  realize  the  littleness  of  this  life  in 
every  aspect  save  that  of  preparation  for 
eternity!  Teach  Ruth  to  regard  it  so;  and," 
he  continued,  with  a  repressed  sob  in  his  voice, 


ruth's  first  day  at  ferndale.      25 

" though  I  cannot  enjoy  my  dear  ones  here 
on  earth,  nor,  like  most  men,  gather  a  house- 
hold about  me,  and  sweeten  my  life  by  the 
comfort  of  wife,  children,  and  home,  my  yearn- 
ing for  these  is  very  great,  and  I  do  not  think 
I  sin  that  in  my  meditations  on  the  blessed- 
ness of  heaven,  next  to  the  longing  to  behold 
my  Saviour's  face  and  be  ever  near  him,  is 
that  of  having  my  Lucy  and  our  Kuth  beside 
me  there,  all  happy  together." 

The  emotion  with  which  these  words  were 
spoken  made  them  very  solemn  to  me,  and  it 
was  with  a  choked  voice  that  I  answered  him, 
and  then  went  out,  leaving  him  to  his  own 
thoughts  and  the  peace  which  a  silent  hour 
of  communion  with  the  great  Comforter  of 
bruised  hearts  would  surely  bring  to  him. 

Meantime,  I  went  to  see  what  Euth  was 
about.  I  was  afraid  she  might  be  wearied  out 
with  her  lonely  morning,  and  be  tempted  to  a 
fit  of  homesickness.  My  fears  did  not  con- 
tinue as  long  as  it  has  taken  me  to  express 
them,  for  when  I  was  halfway  down  the  stairs, 
two  voices,  one  mirthful  and  the  other  loudly 
indignant,  reached  my  ears.  I  hastened  to  the 
kitchen  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  for  thence 
the  sound   came.     Ruth  was  perched  in  the 

3 


26  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

window-seat,  her  pale  little  cheeks  flushed 
with  the  novel  excitement  of  arguing  with  one 
of  those  most  unreasoning  of  all  reasonable 
beings,  an  Irish  girl. 

Bridget  was  busy  in  front  of  the  stove,  and 
had  her  back  toward  me. 

"Why,  what  is  all  the  noise  about?'*  I 
asked. 

"  Faix,  ma'am,"  said  Bridget,  "it's  aisy  to 
see  the  child  has  been  living  amongst  the  hay- 
then.  You  wouldn't  think,  ma'am,  the  quare 
stories  she  has  been  telling  me,  thinking  that 
because  I  hadn't  the  larnin  the  gentry  has  I 
hadn't  common  sinse,  nayther." 

"What  can  you  have  been  saying  to  Brid- 
get, Euth?" 

"Why,  auntie,  she  had  been  telling  me  about 
her  voyage  from  Ireland,  and  so  I  began  to 
tell  her  about  things  I  saw — " 

"  Shure  she  niver  saw  the  likes  of  what  she 
towld  me,  ma'am.  Wasn't  it  fooling  me  she 
was,  to  spake  of  fish  a-flying  on  wings,  and 
some  other  crater  a-blowing  fountains  of  water 
out  of  its  head?  Shure,  haven't  I  crossed  the 
say  meself?  and  I  niver  saw  the  like  o'  that." 

Bridget  was  more  thoroughly  out  of  temper 
than  I  had  ever  seen  her,  and  as,  in  her  ex- 


ruth's  first  day  at  ferndale.      27 

cited  mood,  it  would  have  been  vain  to  attempt 
any  description  of  flying-fish,  or  of  the  habits 
of  the  whale,  I  only  motioned  to  the  laughing 
Euth  to  go  up  stairs,  while  I  lingered  behind 
to  assure  Bridget  that  no  " fooling"  had  been 
meant,  and  to  say  that  I  would  some  evening 
show  her  a  book  which  had  pictures  of  both 
these — to  poor  Biddy — fabulous  creatures. 

There  is  plenty  of  mischief  in  that  demure- 
looking  child,  I  thought,  and  went  to  find 
Ifcuth,  intending  to  lecture  her  for  so  perplex- 
ing Bridget.  All  idea  of  scolding  left  my 
mind  when  I  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Allerton 
sitting  just  where  I  had  left  him,  with  Kuth 
sobbing  on  his  knee. 

"You  must  write  to  me  very,  very  often, 
papa,"  she  was  saying  as  I  entered. 

"You  forget,  darling,  that  I  shall  only  be 
away  from  you  a  few  days  this  time.  I  shall 
spend  at  least  another  day  and  night  at  Fern- 
dale  before  I  start  for  Africa  again." 

"Kuth  has  never  been  separated  from  me 
for  more  than  a  day  in  her  life,"  said  Mr. 
Allerton,  turning  to  me.  "My  leaving  her 
for  these  few  days  is  as  serious  a  matter  as  if 
it  were,  as  it  soon  will  be,  for  many  years." 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "and  is  not  that  just  the 


28  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

way  we  take  the  trials  our  heavenly  Father 
sends?  We  see — at  any  rate,  it  is  so  with 
me — the  hiding  of  his  face  by  some  passing 
cloud,  and  cannot  believe  the  sun  will  ever 
shine  on  us  again." 

"  You  mean  that  for  a  sermon  to  me,  Phebe," 
he  said,  smiling,  "and  you  shall  see  that  I  will 
profit  by  it." 

When,  a  few  hours  later,  the  good-byes  had 
to  be  spoken,  and  our  traveller  set  off,  I  saw 
that  my  poor  Ruth  was  suffering  as  intensely 
as  a  nine-year-old  girl  could  do,  and  for  the 
sake  of  diversion,  I  bade  her  run  for  her  bonnet 
and  shawl, 'and  come  out  with  me  for  a  walk. 
The  fresh  cool  air,  and,  to  her,  novel  scenery, 
succeeded  in  taking  her  thoughts  from  her 
troubles.  The  old-fashioned  bonnet  did  look 
very  strange,  even  in  our  quiet  village,  so  I 
interested  Ruth  still  further  by  taking  her  to 
the  milliner's  and  choosing  a  pretty  but  simple 
hat  that  looked  much  better  for  a  little  girl. 

"Mamma  always  had  me  wear  my  things 
till  they  were  worn  out,"  was  her  only  comment 
as  we  left  the  store. 

"That  was  quite  right,  dear,"  I  said,  "and 
that  would  be  a  wise  rule  to  adopt  in  this 
country  too ;  but  Christian  people  do  not  have 


ruth's  first  day  at  ferndale.      29 

the  regulating  of  these  things,  and  so  fashions 
change.  I  would  not  like  to  see  you  dressed 
out  in  all  the  gay  finery  that  fashionable 
misses  wear.  Such  clothing  here  would  not 
help  you  to  gain  the  white  robe  of  the  saints 
we  read  about  in  Kevelation,  and  that  is  far 
more  precious,  is  it  not,  my  Kuth  ?  But  wear- 
ing an  odd-looking  garment  would  only  make 
you  appear  conspicuous,  and  so,  to  my  mind, 
would  be  no  more  in  accordance  with  St.  Paul's 
wish  that  women  should  '  adorn  themselves  in 
modest  apparel'  than  the  other  extreme." 

Then  we  talked  about  other  things,  for  there 
was  no  lack  of  subjects  suggested  by  that 
short  walk  through  the  village  to  a  little  girl 
who  had  always  lived  in  Africa,  and  was  now 
taking  her  first  view  of  a  civilized  country  and 
its  customs. 

3* 


CHAPTER    III. 

NEW  FRIENDS,  NEW  PLANS,  AND  A   STORY. 

E  had  just  finished  breakfast  and  held 
our  family  prayer  next  morning  when 
there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
the  cheery  voice  of  my  young  neigh- 
bour, Charlie  King,  sounded  in  the 
hall,  inquiring  if  he  could  see  Miss  Martin  for 
a  moment.  By  the  way,  in  introducing  my- 
self as  Ruth  Allerton's  "  Aunt  Phebe,"  I  have 
hitherto  forgotten  to  give  the  title  by  which  I 
am  known  in  Ferndale  society — Miss  Phebe 
Martin. 

"Come  in,  come  in !"  said  I  to  Charlie, 
whose  beaming  red  head  thrust  itself  rather 
bashfully  inside  the  door  in  advance  of  his 
body — "come  in  and  let  me  introduce  you  to 
my  niece,  Ruth  Allerton,  from  Africa." 

Charlie's  gray  eyes  opened  wide  as  he 
crossed  the  room  to  shake  hands  with  Ruth. 
He  stared  at  the  young  lady  with  less  than 
his  usual  politeness,  and  turning  to  me,  said : 

30 


NEW   FRIENDS,  NEW   PLANS,  AND   A   STORY.    31 

"  Why,  Miss  Martin,  is  she  really  an  Afri- 
can ?  She  is  as  white  as  I  am,  and  talks  Eng- 
lish too." 

I  laughed  outright,  and  began  to  explain  to 
the  boy  that,  while  Ruth  was  a  native  of  Af- 
rica by  birth,  she  was  by  parentage  as  much 
an  American  as  he  was,  and  had  talked  Eng- 
lish all  her  life.  Ruth  did  not  smile ;  she  was 
evidently  vexed  at  poor  Charlie's  innocent 
blunder.  In  order  to  give  her  time  to  recover 
her  good-humour,  I  motioned  the  boy  to  a  seat 
and  inquired  after  his  mother  and  sisters,  and 
what  message  he  had  come  to  bring. 

"  Mother  heard  that  your  niece  had  come, 
and  she  was  wondering  if  you  were  going  to 
send  her  to  the  public  school.  She  thought, 
if  not,  maybe  you  would  like  to  join  in  getting 
up  a  class  among  us  neighbours.  There  is  a 
Miss  Chester  who  wants  to  teach,  and  mother 
says  if  she  can  find  three  or  four  scholars  be- 
side ourselves  who  would  like  to  join,  she  will 
write  at  once  and  make  arrangements." 

"  Who  is  Miss  Chester  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  She  is  a —  Well,  I  should  only  blunder  if 
I  tried  to  tell  you,  Miss  Martin.  All  I  know  is 
what  I  have  heard  mother  and  father  talking  ; 
but  mother  told  me  to  be  sure  and  say  she 


32  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  the  matter,  and 
if  you  could  call  in  to  see  her  a  few  minutes 
this  afternoon  she  would  explain  everything. 
She  is  busy  this  morning — I  believe  everybody 
is  busy  Saturdays  except  youngsters  like  me — 
else  she  would  have  come  herself." 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  in  and  see  your  mother 
some  time  to-day,  for  this  is  just  the  opportu- 
nity I  wanted  for  Euth.  And,  Charlie,  if  she 
is  busy  with  her  Saturday's  baking,  as  I  sup- 
pose, she  don't  want  such  a  great  fellow  as  you 
in  her  way,  so  I  think  you  had  better  stay 
here  for  a  while  and  get  acquainted  with 
Euth." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  if  Euth  will  forgive  me  for 
expecting  to  find  her  a  darkey.  What  a 
dunce  I  was !" 

He  looked  dubiously  over  at  Euth,  but  the 
cloud  had  passed  away  from  her  face,  and  she 
was  evidently  quite  ready  to  enjoy  the  com- 
pany of  some  one  near  her  own  age.  The 
poor  child  had  probably  never  in  her  life  had 
a  companion  of  her  own  age  -  and  colour,  and 
here  was  a  good  beginning.  Charlie  was 
really  two  years  older  than  Euth,  but  that 
made  no  difference.  The  little  old-fashioned 
woman  of  nine  was  in  no  respect  but  size  one 


NEW  FKIENDS,  NEW  PLANS,  AND  A  STORY.*  33 

whit  behind  the  good-natured,  over-grown  boy 
of  eleven. 

Kuth  was  cutting  out  paper  dolls  in  her 
favourite  corner  between  the  window  and  the 
fire.  Charlie  asked  if  she  would  let  him  help, 
adding  that  his  sister  Kitty  kept  him  in  good 
practice  at  all  such  work.  Euth  nodded,  and 
pulled  a  chair  for  him  close  to  her  corner.  It 
was  Saturday  morning  for  me  as  well  as  Char- 
lie's mother,  so  I  made  a  long  visit  to  the  kitch- 
en, and  afterward  to  various  rooms  up  stairs, 
to  see  that  all  things  were  in  order  for  the 
Sunday's  rest.  At  last  I  was  ready  to  sit 
down  to  my  sewing.  My  work  was  in  a  little 
room  adjoining  the  dining-room,  where  the 
children  were.  I  passed  in  there  without  dis- 
turbing them,  and  was  for  some  moments  an 
amused  listener  to  the  conversation  going  on. 
Charlie  was  saying  :  " 

"You'll  like  our  Sunday-school  first  rate, 
and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  put  you  in  the 
class  with  my  sister  Kitty ;  she  is  about  your 
age,  I  guess.     That'll  be  jolly." 

"  I  do  not  believe  Aunt  Phebe  will  want  me 

to  go  to  Sunday-school  at  all.     You  know  my 

father  and  mother  were  missionaries,  and  they 

know  a  great  deal  more  than  other  folks.     I 

c 


34  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

have  been  studying  the  Bible  ever  since  I  can 
remember,  and  I  can  say  ever  so  many  chap- 
ters by  heart,  and  I  know  the  order  of  the 
kings  of  Israel,  and  can  point  out  all  the  Bible 
places  on  the  map,  and  I  can  answer  questions, 
if  you  skip  about,  in  the  Gospels." 

"  Yes,"  said  Charlie,  gravely,  "  I  guess  you 
know  a  lot  more  than  I  do,  but  my  teacher 
says  that  if  we  study  the  Bible  all  our  lives 
we  will  keep  finding  new  things  to  the  very 
last." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  said  Euth,  impatiently, 
"  but  then  I  know  a  great  deal  for  a  little  girl 
like  me.  There  was  a  lady  on  board  the  ship 
with  us  that  used  to  listen  while  I  said  my 
lessons  to  papa,  and  she  said  my  familiarness 
with  Scripture  was  quite  wonderful." 

"  Familiarity,  I  guess  you  mean,"  said  Char- 
lie, correcting  her.  I  soon  found  that  Euth 
had  a  way  of  using  large  words  when  she  was 
with  strangers.  I  sighed  now,  as  I  recognized 
here  the  germ  of  a  very  serious  fault  in  my 
little  niece.  Conceit  is  unlovely,  whatever 
form  it  takes,  but  religious  conceit  is  worst  of 
all. 

Euth's  mention  of  the  ship  turned  the  con- 
versation at  once,  for  Charlie  was  a  real  boy 


NEW   FRIENDS,  NEW   PLANS,  AND   A   STORY.    35 

in  his  curiosity  about  the  sea  and  foreign 
countries.  He  asked  one  question  after 
another,  and  Ruth,  well  pleased  to  find  herself 
able  to  give  information  to  a  boy  so  much 
older,  told  him  all  she  could  think  of  about 
Africa  and  her  voyage  to  America. 

After  a  while  I  had  occasion  to  enter  the 
dining-room,  and  the  busy  tongues  seemed 
checked  by  my  presence,  though  I  begged 
'them  not  to  be  silent  on  my  account,  and 
Charlie  soon  took  his  cap  to  go  home. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  I  bundled  up  my  Af- 
rican sensitive-plant,  as' I  called  Ruth,  so  that 
Jack  Frost  should  not  pinch  her,  and  we  went 
to  make  the  promised  call  on  Mrs.  King. 
Ruth  was  charmed  with  her  first  view  of 
Charlie's  home.  It  was  a  stately  old  house, 
with  a  large  garden  between  it  and  the  street, 
and  had,  even  in  its  exterior  and  at  this  un- 
favourable season,  a  suggestion  of  comfort  and 
happiness.  When  fairly  inside  the  charm 
was  increased  by  the  bright  blaze  of  a  wood- 
fire  in  .  the  sitting-room  to  which  we  were 
shown,  the  contented  purr  of  a  large  cat 
curled  up  in  one  of  the  easy-chairs,  and  many 
little  matters  which  one  takes  note  of  with  the 
heart  rather  than  the  eye,  and  concludes  at 


36  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

once  that  it  is  the  home  of  a  happy  and  loving 
family.  The  room  was  vacant  when  we  en- 
tered, but  presently  good  little  Mrs.  King 
came  in,  looking  as  cheery  as  her  bright  fire 
did.  She  nodded  a  welcome  to  me  and  ex- 
tended both  arms  to  Ruth,  who  ran  into  them 
and  received  a  true  motherly  hug. 

"  I  loved  your  mother,  my  dear,"  she  said  to 
Buth  in  an  explanatory  way. 

Alice  and  Kitty  came  in,  and  were  soon 
engaged  in  earnest  talk  with  Buth  about  the 
school  project  and  the  good  times  they  would 
have  together  if  Miss  Martin  would  consent 
to  her  joining  them. 

Meanwhile,  I  was  asking  questions  about 
the  proposed  plan  of  study,  and  about  the 
teacher  who  was  to  be  engaged.  Miss  Ches- 
ter, as  Mrs.  King  told  me,  was  a  young  lady 
whom  she  had  known  and  loved  from  her 
childhood.  Her  father  had  lately  died,  and 
the  young  orphan,  with  no  means  of  support 
but  her  well-cultivated  mind,  had  appealed  to 
her  friend  Mrs.  King  to  know  if  she  could  find 
her  a  few  pupils  in  quiet  Ferndale,  a  place  she 
had  visited  with  her  father  in  happier  days. 

"Above  all  the  rest,"  said  Mrs.  King, 
"  Miss  Chester  is  qualified  for  the  care  of  our 


NEW   FKIENDS,  NEW   PLANS,  AND   A  STOEY.     37 

children  by  her  lovely  character.  She  has 
found  for  herself  the  Pearl  of  great  price,  and 
I  know  she  will  faithfully  urge  her  scholars  to 
seek  for  it.  I  know  this  will  have  weight 
with  you,  my  friend,"  she  continued,  "for  our 
ideas  of  education  are,  I  believe,  in  exact  ac- 
cordance." 

I  was  indeed  well  satisfied  with  the  result 
of  my  inquiries,  and  agreed  that  Kuth  should 
'begin  her  studies  with  Mrs.  King's  children 
a  week  from  the  following  Monday.  Mrs. 
Gilbert,  another  near  neighbour,  had  promised 
to  send  her  daughters,  Sue  and  Clara,  and 
thus  the  class  was  formed. 

Euth  chatted  gayly  during  the  way  home. 
Children,  like  all  other  young  things,  rejoice 
in  being  with  their  own  kind.  How  lonely  a 
poor  kitten  is  who  has  not  another  kitten's 
tail  to  chase  after !  Euth  had  had  a  happy 
day,  and  I  was  hopeful  that  I  should  have  no 
report  of  homesickness  to  give  her  father  on 
his  return.  When  she  repeated  her  evening 
prayer  at  my  knee,  I. fancied  that  she  thanked 
God  for  the  day's  blessings  with  more  hearti- 
ness than  usual. 

The  sun  rose  next  morning  with  all  the 
splendour  that  an  autumn  sun  is  capable  of,  as 

.     4 


38  EUTH  ALLERTON. 

if  trying  to  do  its  part  toward  proving  true 
those  lines  of  Herbert : 

"  O  day  most  calm,  most  bright ! 
The  world  were  dark  but  for  thy  light ; 
Thy  torch  doth  show  the  way." 

Ruth's  salutation  when  we  met  at  breakfast 
was :  "  Give  me  seven  kisses,  auntie,  for  this 
is  my  first  Sunday  in  America." 

"  And  by -wanting  seven  kisses,  you  mean,  I 
suppose,  that  Sunday  contains  as  much  enjoy- 
ment as  all  the  other  days  put  together,  do 
you  ?"  I  asked,  meanwhile  giving  the  required 
number  to  the  lips  held  up  to  me. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,  auntie;  I  have  no  idea 
how  Sundays  are  here.  At  home  I  used  to  get 
more  tired  on  Sunday  than  on  other  days. 
Papa  had  no  time  to  talk  to  me,  and  when  I 
was  not  in  church  I  had  to  sit  alone  and  read. 
It  was  so  hot,  too." 

When  prayers  were  over,  and  we  sat  quietly 
by  the  fire,  Ruth  holding  old  pussy  in  her 
arms,  I  broke  the  silence  by  saying : 

"Do  you  like  to  hear  stories?" 

"Oh  yes,  dearly!"  said  Ruth. 

"Then  come  sit  on  my  lap,  and  I  will  tell 
you  one." 


NEW   FRIENDS,  NEW   PLANS,  AND   A   STORY.     39 

I  had  no  need  to  give  the  invitation  twice. 

"There  was  once  a  very  great  and  wise 
king  who  treated  his  subjects  as  if  they  were 
his  own  dear  children,  and  did  everything  he 
could  for  their  happiness.  This  king  had  a 
magnificent  garden,  wherein  he  had  planted  all 
kinds  of  agreeable  fruits  and  lovely  flowers; 
and  this  he  did  entirely  for  the  enjoyment  of 
his  people,  bidding  them  enter  at  all  times,  to 
•pluck  the  flowers,  and  eat  the  fruits  at  their 
pleasure.  One  day  a  stranger  came  in  sight 
of  this  garden,  and  being  cordially  invited  by 
a  messenger  from  the  king,  he  entered  and 
walked  in  one  of  the  beautiful  paths.  Meet- 
ing a  little  girl  who  seemed  to  feel  quite  at 
home  there,  he  asked  her  if  she  could  give 
him  some  information  about  the  place.  'Oh 
yes,'  replied  the  child,  'I  know  every  path 
here,  and  can  tell  you  the  names  of  the  trees 
in  the  order  they  come,  and  I  can  answer  a 
great  many  questions.' 

"'Why,  you  are  a  wise  little  girl!'  said  he. 

"  '  Oh  yes,  people  say  it  is  quite  wonderful, 
and  I  believe  I  do  know  a  great  deal  for  a 
little  girl  like  me.' 

"'Of  course/  resumed  the  stranger,  'you 
have  tasted  of  all  these  rare  fruits,  of  which 


40  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

your  good  king  allows  you  to  partake  so  freely, 
and  can  show  me  all  the  most  fragrant  flowers  ? 
Which  are  your  favourites  V 

"'Oh,'  said  his  little  guide,  hanging  her 
head,  'I  cannot  do  that,  sir,  for  I  nevei 
thought  of  eating  the  fruit,  and  though  I  have 
run  about  here  in  these  paths  all  my  life,  I 
never  have  smelled  of  a  flower.  But  my  father 
is  one  of  the  king's  gardeners,  and  he  knows 
all  about  such  things.' 

"  The  stranger  turned  away  with  a  sigh,  mar- 
velling much  that  this  favoured  child  was  con- 
tent with  knowing  the  names  of  the  trees, 
when  thousands  of  those  less  blessed  were 
suffering  for  the  want  of  what  this  garden 
supplied." 

Buth's  head  had  drooped  on  my  shoulder 
during  the  recital,  and  when  it  was  ended,  she 
said  in  a  very  humble  tone, 

"I  think  I  know  what  it  means,  auntie;  I 
am  that  little  girl  that  thought  she  knew  so 
much,  and  did  not  know  anything,  after  all.  I 
think  I  had  better  go  to  Sunday-school." 

I  was  glad  that  the  reproof  was  understood, 
and  prayed  that  the  Lord  would  use  my  story 
as  a  means  of  removing  all  vanity  from  her 
heart. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SUNDAY  INCIDENTS,  AND  A  BUSY  WEEK. 

HARLIE  KING  and  his  sisters  were 
at  the  church  door  waiting  to  meet  us 
as  we  passed  out. 

"Oh,  Miss  Martin,  is  Ruth  coming 
to  Sunday-school?"  was  the  question 
from  all  three  children  at  once. 

"  I  will  let  Ruth  answer  for  herself/'  said  I. 
The  little  girl  blushed  as  her  eyes  met  mine, 
in  remembrance  of  our  conversation,  and  she 
said  very  softly, 

"Yes,  I  want  to  go." 

To  the  mutual  delight  of  the  two  new  friends, 
Ruth  was  placed  in  the  same  class  with  Kitty. 
I  taught  a  class  of  girls  somewhat  older,  and 
as  I  could  not  on  that  account  have  my  little 
niece  under  my  own  instruction,  I  willingly 
saw  her  placed  with  Miss  Brown,  a  teacher 
who  not  only  obliged  her  scholars  to  repeat 
Bible  words,  but  sought   earnestly  to   guide 

4*  41 


42  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

them  into  the  way  of  truth.  The  lesson  that 
morning  was  on  the  parable  of  the  Pharisee 
and  the  Publican,  and  I  hoped  that  my  self- 
satisfied  Euth  would  get  another  home-thrust 
through  Miss  Brown's  explanations.  We  had 
quite  a  long  walk  from  the  church  home,  and 
as  the  little  Kings  lived  in  the  third  house  be- 
yond ours,  we  all  went  together.  The  conver- 
sation was  naturally  about  the  Sunday-school. 
Euth  condescended  to  admit  to  Alice  that  she 
liked  it  very  much,  and  thought  it  a  great 
deal  pleasanter  than  the  one  in  Africa.  There 
were  no  such  nice  library-books  there,  and 
they  could  not  sing  any  hymns  half  so  pretty 
as  those  she  had  j  ust  heard.  This  honest  admis- 
sion pleased  her  friends,  for,  from  Ruth's  habit 
of  comparing  everything  she  heard  or  saw  to 
what  she  had  been  accustomed  in  her  mission 
home,  they  had  gained  a  vague  idea  that 
Africa  was  a  wonderful  country,  and  Euth, 
who  had  lived  there  all  her  life,  and  had  actu- 
ally sailed  across  the  wide  ocean,  was  a  heroine 
in  their  eyes.  She  very  soon  became  con- 
scious of  this,  and  her  self-esteem  increased 
thereby. 

During  the  afternoon,  as  I  sat  quietly  read- 
ing in  the  sitting-room,  Euth  came  running  in 


SUNDAY   INCIDENTS,  AND   A   BUSY   WEEK.      43 

with  a  mirthful  look  in  her  eyes,  and  sat  down 
on  the  cushion  at  my  feet. 

" Auntie,"  she  exclaimed,  "did  you  know 
Bridget  kept  gregrees  ?" 

"Why,  no,  my  dear,"  I  replied;  "what  do 
you  mean?" 

"  She  does,  though ;  I  saw  them  myself. 
She  thinks  I  am  a  ■  hay  then,'  and  now  I  am 
sure  she  is  one,"  said  Euth.  I  put  down  my 
book  now,  to  pay  better  attention  to  what  the 
child  was  saying. 

"Euth,  I  hope  you  have  not  been  vexing 
Bridget  again  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,  auntie ;  I  wanted  to  speak  to 
her,  but  she  was  on  her  knees  as  I  passed 
through  the  kitchen,  so  I  couldn't.  She  was 
not  praying  in  a  Christian  fashion,  though,  for 
she  had  a  string  of  large  beads,  and  was  talk- 
ing away  to  them,  one  after  another,  as  fast  as 
could  be.  I  am  sure  they  are  her  gregrees, 
and  that  she  is  a  heathen." 

I  made  Euth  promise  that  she  would  not  say 
anything  to  Bridget  about  this,  knowing  that 
it  would  make  the  poor  ignorant  girl  very 
angry  to  be  spoken  to  about  her  beads  in  the 
way  that  Euth  would  be  likely  to  speak. 
Then  I  tried  to  explain  to  the  child,  who  had 


44  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

never  before  heard  of  any  other  distinctions 
than  Christian  and  heathen,  a  few  of  the  errors 
of  the  Eoman  Catholic  Church. 

"  After  this,  I  trust  you  will  not  laugh  at 
poor  Bridget,"  I  said,  "  for  she  does  not  know 
any  better;  neither  would  you,  my  dear,  if 
God  had  not  been  so  merciful  to  you  as  to 
give  you  a  father  and  mother  who  knew  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  the  Bible,  and  so  instructed 
you.  Besides,  Bridget  is  not  a  heathen.  You 
must  not  call  her  so,  but  feel  sorry  for  her 
and  pray  for  her.  I  wish  you  would  be  more 
gentle  toward  her,  dear,  and  perhaps  some 
time  you  can  speak  to  her  about  the  Saviour, 
or,  what  is  better,  coax  her  to  listen  while  you 
read  a  chapter  from  the  Bible.  Perhaps  God 
will  make  you  his  little  missionary  to 
Bridget." 

Puuth  looked  grave,  and  soon  left  me  and 
stole  out  of  the  room.  She  had  gained  several 
new  ideas  through  the  day,  enough  to  keep 
her  little  mind  busy  for  some  time.  I  hoped, 
from  her  serious  expression,  that  she  would 
take  all  her  perplexities  where  St.  James — in 
one  of  the  sweetest  verses  of  the  Bible — rec- 
ommends us  all  to  go  for  assistance :  "If 
any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God, 


SUNDAY   INCIDENTS,  AND   A    BUSY    WEEK.      45 

who  giveth  to  all  men  liberally  and  upbraideth 
not." 

More  than  an  hour  later  I  caught  the  sound 
of  some  very  sweet  singing,  and  opened  the 
door  and  drew  my  chair  nearer  to  it,  in  order 
to  listen.  The  tunes  were  unfamiliar,  and  the 
words  conveyed  no  meaning  to  my  ears.  No 
doubt,  thought  I,  they  are  carrying  Kuth's 
thoughts  far  away  to  the  mission  church  in 
her  native  land  and  the  dark  faces  that  used 
to  surround  her  there.  There  were  one  or 
two  English  hymns  interspersed  with  the  rest, 
one  of  which,  sung  to  a  low,  sweet  tune,  par- 
ticularly attracted  me.  When,  about  twilight, 
Euth  came  down  stairs  again,  I- asked  her  to 
sing  it  for  me. 

"  Mamma  wrote  that  hymn,"  she  said,  "  and 
taught  it  to  me,  and  we  often  used  to  sing  it 
together  for  papa.  He  used  to  join  in  some- 
times, but  he  doesn't  know  how  to  sing,  and 
always  put  us  out.  Then  he  would  laugh,  and 
say  he  should  have  to  do  all  his  singing  with 
his  heart  instead  of  his  voice  until  he  went  to 
heaven." 

"  Now  let  us  have  the  hymn,  my  dear,"  I 
said.  So  she  took  her  usual  low  seat  beside 
me  and  sang  till  it  grew  quite  dark.    None  of 


46  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

the  other  hymns  affected  me  as  this  one  of 
Lucy's,  which  I  wrote  down  and  kept  for  her 
sake. 

"  Tender  Shepherd,  who  dost  keep 
Faithful  watch  o'er  wandering  sheep, 
We  entreat  thee,  gather  in 
All  who  wander  yet  in  sin. 

"  Souls  there  are  that  never  heard 
Of  a  Saviour  and  his  word ; 
To  the  realms  of  heathen  night 
Send,  oh  send,  thy  glorious  light. 

"  Erring  ones  on  every  side 
Need  thy  help,  O  gracious  Guide ! 
For  all  such  we  humbly  pray ; 
Teach  their  wandering  feet  thy  way. 

"  For  the  hearts  to  us  most  dear, 
Lord,  our  humble  pleadings  hear ! 
Blessed  Shepherd,  in  thy  fold 
Be  our  loved  ones  all  enrolled. 

"  Hear  our  prayers,  though  cold  indeed 
Are  the  hearts  with  which  we  plead, 
And  on  us  the  gift  bestow, 
Greater  love  for  souls  to  know." 

"Do  you  not  think  that  little  Ruth  was 
chief  among  those  '  loved  ones  '  for  whom  her 
mamma  prayed?"  I  asked,  when  she  ceased 
singing. 


SUNDAY   INCIDENTS,  AND   A   BUSY   WEEK.      47 

"I  don't  know;  I  never  thought  much  about 
it,"  she  replied.  "The  tune  is  pretty  though, 
isn't  it,  Aunt  Phebe?" 

"Very  pretty,"  I  answered,  absently,  for 
my  thoughts  and  Kuth's  were  at  that  moment 
wide  apart.  How  is  it,  I  was  asking  myself, 
that  children  who  are  taught  from  their  in- 
fancy in  religious  things,  and  grow  up  in  an 
atmosphere  of  holiness,  as  it  were,  are  so  apt 
to  appear  thoroughly  indifferent  to  it  all,  and 
are  really  less  affected  by  divine  truths  than 
those  who  have  had  no  such  blessedness?  I 
asked  myself  the  question,  but  could  not 
answer  it,  except  by  the  reflection  that  such 
training  usually  shows  its  effects  in  after  years. 
There  have  been  many  instances  of  a  mother's 
prayers  and  a  father's  pious  example  and  ad- 
vice seeming  to  have  no  effect  on  sons  and 
daughters  who  have  grown  up  worldly-minded. 
There  seems  to  be  a  time  when,  like  seed  in  the 
ground,  such  impressions  must  be  dormant  in 
the  heart  of  a  child.  If  we  only  wait  with 
patience,  it  must  be  that  God  awakes  those 
early  lessons  to  an  active  effect  on  the  charac- 
ter, or  else  causes  them  to  arise  in  terrible 
judgment  upon  the  heart,  that,  in  spite  of  all 
these  teachings,  chooses  to  turn  aside  from  the 


48  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

strait  and  narrow  way.  I  must  not  expect 
grown-up  feelings  at  nine  years  old,  I  said  to 
myself,  and  I  must  take  care  and  not  be  like 
the  foolish  children  who  pull  up  their  flower- 
seeds  every  few  days  to  see  if  they  have  begun 
to  sprout. 

Now,  all  this  meditation  of  Aunt  Phebe's 
may  not  be  very  interesting  to  young  folks. 
In  fact,  if  I  had  spoken  aloud  to  Ruth  all  the 
thoughts  I  had  about  her,  she  would  have 
thought  me  very  tiresome  indeed,  for  young 
folks  take  things  as  they  find  them,  and  seldom 
trouble  their  minds  with  questioning  how  they 
came  to  be  so,  or  what  will  be  the  result  of 
certain  facts.  Old  folks,  on  the  contrary,  care 
less  for  things  as  they  are  than  for  what  they 
have  come  from  and  to  what  they  will  lead. 

The  remainder  of  the  week  proved  a  busy 
time  at  our  house.  Ruth's  wardrobe  was  more 
suited  for  the  neighbourhood  of  the  equator 
than  for  Ferndale  at  that  season  of  the  year, 
and  consequently  there  was  some  shopping  to 
be  done,  and  a  good  deal  of  sewing.  Euth 
enjoyed  going  in  and  out  the  stores,  and  having 
a  voice  in  selecting  the  material  for  her  dresses. 

"It  is  so  nice  to  see  all  the  pretty  things, 
and  help  choose  for  myself,"  she  said.  "  Mamma 


SUNDAY   INCIDENTS,  AND   A   BUSY   WEEK.      49 

used  always  to  send  to  Aunt  Esther  for  what 
we  wanted,  because  she  lived  in  town  and  could 
easily  send  them  to  the  mission  rooms,  where 
all  our  boxes  were  sent  from.  Often  mamma 
did  not  like  the  dresses  and  bonnets  she  chose, 
but  then  we  had  to  wear  them,  you  know.  Oh, 
it  is  fine  fun  to  buy  things  for  one's  self." 

The  fact  was  that,  while  Kuth  thought  she 
selected  everything,  she  was  only  asked  her 
opinion,  for  had  I  left  the  choice  to  her  inex- 
perienced taste,  she  would  have  been  arrayed 
in  all  the  colours  of  the  rainbow  and  in  all 
sorts  of  textures.  In  the  hot  climate  of  Africa 
she  had  always  worn  thin,  quiet-tinted  dresses, 
and  by  contrast  the  gay  plaids  and  vivid  reds 
and  greens  displayed  in  the  store  windows 
were  most  beautiful.  She  was  so  carried  away 
by  the  excitement  of  purchasing  pretty  things 
for  herself  that  I  had  to  remind  her  that  it 
would  not  do  to  spend  all  the  money  her  papa 
had  allowed  her  in  this  way.  She  would  need 
books,  for  instance,  and  music,  and  must  always 
save  a  part  to  give  in  charity. 

"But,  Aunt  Phebe,  I  am  such  a  little  girl! 
I  am  sure  no  one  would  expect  me  to  give 
away  anything." 

"My  child,  what  are   you  saying?     I  did 

5  D 


50  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

not  expect  to  hear  such  a  selfish  speech  from 
a  missionary's  daughter." 

"I  don't  mean  to  be  selfish,  auntie,  but — " 

"Yes,  Euth,  I  know  all  that  is  meant  by 
that  'but'  of  yours.  You  are  thinking  that 
if  papa  gives  you  money  it  is  yours  to  spend 
as  you  please,  and  that  you  are  not  bound  to 
use  it  for  anybody  else.  Money  is  one  of  the 
talents  Grod  puts  in  our  charge ;  if  we  spend  it 
all  on  ourselves,  it  is  like  wrapping  it  in  a 
napkin,  but  if  we  share  it  with  the  poor  and 
needy,  then  it  gains  interest  all  the  time,  and 
when  our  Lord  comes  to  ask  us  what  we  have 
done  with  his  gift,  we  shall  have  five,  perhaps 
ten,  fold  to  render  back.  Do  you  understand 
me,  Euth?" 

"Yes,  auntie,"  was  the  answer,  but  not  given 
in  the  pleasant  tone  in  which  the  child  usually 
spoke.  We  walked  home,  after  this,  without 
further  conversation. 

Perhaps  I  spoke  too  sharply  to  the  poor  little 
one,  I  said  to  myself,  but  then  I  must  not  let 
John  Allerton's  child,  and  Lucy's,  grow  up  a 
self-indulgent  woman.  My  thoughts  recurred 
to  the  conversation  with  Euth's  father  the  day 
he  went  away. 

When  we  reached  home,  Bridget  handed  me 


SUNDAY   INCIDENTS,  AND   A  BUSY   WEEK.      51 

a  letter  that  had  been  brought  during  our  ab- 
sence. It  was  a  hurried  note  from  Mr.  Aller- 
ton,  dated  New  York.  His  sister,  with  whom 
he  stayed — the  Aunt  Esther  of  whom  Ruth  had 
spoken — was  desirous  of  having  a  visit  from  her 
niece.  If  I  thought  well  of  the  plan,  he  wrote, 
it  would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  have  her  there 
with  him  the  few  remaining  days  of  his  stay. 
He  would  come  to  Ferndale  by  the  night  train 
the  following  Monday,  and  take  Ruth  back 
with  him  on  Tuesday.  As  to  her  return,  her 
aunt  Esther  had  a  friend  who  would  be  com- 
ing on  to  a  town  just  beyond  Ferndale  a  few 
days  after  the  day  appointed  for  him  to  sail. 
He  hoped  I  would  see  no  objection  to  this  plan, 
but  urged  me  if  I  had  any  to  state  it  frankly, 
and  at  any  rate  to  send  my  answer  at  once. 

I  read  the  letter  over  two  or  three  times  to 
get  at  its  exact  meaning.  Ruth  stood  by, 
eager  to  hear  what  papa  had  said.  I  did  not 
wish  to  tell  her,  however,  until  I  had  decided 
what  answer  to  give.  The  plan  did  not  meet 
with  my  approval.  The  weather  was  cold ;  it 
would  be  hard  work  to  get  Ruth's  wardrobe  in 
order  in  so  short  a  time ;  she  would  be  unable 
to  begin  school  with  the  rest,  and,  last  of  all, 
but  perhaps  the  strongest  reason  in  my  mind 


52  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

against  the  visit,  I  knew  that  this  Aunt 
Esther  was  a  wealthy  and  a  worldly  woman, 
one  whose  influence  I  much  feared  for  such  a 
child  as  Ruth.  Still,  she  was  her  aunt,  her 
father's  own  and  only  sister.  I  could  get  her 
ready  if  I  tried,  and  it  was  her  father's  wish, 
the  last  one  in  regard  to  her  that  he  might  be 
able  to  have  granted  for  many  a  year.  This 
last  thought  settled  the  question,  and  I  wrote 
at  once  to  Mr.  Allerton  that  I  would  have 
Euth  in  readiness,  and  should  look  for  him  at 
the  time  he  proposed. 

When  I  told  the  child  that  she  was  to  go  to 
New  York  and  be  with  papa  till  he  sailed,  her 
delight  seemed  to  go  like  electric  fluid  to  her 
hands  and  feet,  and  she  danced  and  clapped  her 
hands  so  vigorously  that  Carlo  gave  an  as- 
tonished bark  and  Bridget  came  from  the 
kitchen  in  alarm  to  ask  what  had  happened. 


CHAPTEE  V. 

A  LESSON  IN  CHARITY. 

H,  KITTY !  oh,  Alice !    Guess  where  I 
am  going  next  week!" 

These  were  the  words  with  which 
Ruth  saluted  her  friends  when,  a  day 
or  two  after  the  events  of  the  last 
chapter,  they  came  in  for  a  neighbourly  call. 

"Going!  why  to  school,  to  be  sure!"  said 
Kitty.  "Mamma  has  just  had  a  letter  from 
Miss  Chester,  and  she  is  to  be  here  next  Sat- 
urday, all  ready  to  begin  school  on  Monday 
morning." 

"  I  am  afraid  Ruth  means  something  besides 
going  to  school,"  said  Alice,  who  noticed  the 
excited  manner  of  the  little  girl,  and  rightly 
guessed  that  all  that  enthusiasm  was  not  ex- 
pended on  the  prospect  of  beginning  school. 

"No,  indeed!  I  am  not  going  to  school — 
that  is,  not  yet.  Papa  is  coming  next  Monday 
to  take  me  back  with  him  to  New  York,  and 
oh,  girls,  what  a  good  time  I  shall  have!" 

5  *  53 


54  BUTH   ALLERTON. 

"I  wish  I  could  go  too,"  sighed  Kitty.  "I 
never  was  in  New  York  in  my  life.  Mamma 
has  been,  though,  and  I  know  it  must  be  a 
splendid  place,  for  she  brought  us  home  the 
prettiest  presents  you  ever  saw.  What  a 
happy  girl  you  are,  Kuth  Allerton!  It  isn't 
everybody  that  gets  a  chance  to  go  to  Africa 
and  to  New  York." 

"But,  you  know,"  said  Alice,  "she  did  not 
go  to  Africa;  she  was  born  there." 

We  all  laughed  at  Kitty's  idea  of  Buth's 
good  fortune. 

"Well,"  said  Alice  as  they  rose  to  go,  "we 
are  real  sorry  to  have  to  begin  study  without 
you,  but  I  hope  you  will  have  a  good  time,  and 
come  back  to  Ferndale  soon." 

Euth  echoed  all  but  the  last  part  of  Alice's 
wish.  Her  little  heart  was  so  full  of  anticipa- 
tion of  the  pleasure  just  before  her  that  she 
did  not  care  to  think  about  the  return  to  Fern- 
dale.  When  we  were  alone  she  asked  me 
many  questions  about  New  York. 

"It  must  be  like  Boston,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  only  larger.  You  did  not  see  much 
of  Boston,  did  you?" 

"No,  ma'am;  we  got  out  of  the  ship  and 
walked  a  little  way,  and  then  we  got  in  an 


A    LESSON    IN    CHARITY.  55 

ominous  and  rode  to  the  place  where  the  cars 
were  to  start  from.  It  was  all  so  strange  I 
hardly  remember  what  I  saw." 

"An  ominous!"  I  repeated.  "You mean  an 
omnibus,  dear." 

"Yes,  that  is  the  word,"  said  Euth. 

"  Take  care,  my  little  girl,"  I  said,  "  and  while 
you  are  away  do  not  try  to  appear  wise,  and 
so  make  people  laugh  at  you.  Now,  would  it 
not  have  been  better  had  you  asked  Aunt 
Phebe  how  to  pronounce  that  word  before  you 
said  it?" 

"  I  don't  like  to  seem  as  if  I  did  not  know 
anything,  auntie." 

"Don't  think  so  much  about  seeming,  my 
child,  nor  about  what  people  expect  of  you,  as 
you  did  yesterday  when  we  were  talking  about 
giving.  Think  only  of  how  you  seem  to  your 
Father  in  heaven,  and  try  to  be  what  his  word 
requires." 

The  news  of  Ruth's  projected  journey  caused 
quite  an  excitement  among  our  little  neigh- 
bours, the  Kings.  It  was  not  long  after  the 
two  girls  had  gone  that  Charlie  came  to  in- 
quire if  it  were  really  true. 

"I  don't  like  it  a  bit,  Miss  Martin," he  said. 
"It  is  too  bad  to  disappoint  a  fellow  so.     I 


56  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

thought  it  would  be  so  jolly  for  Ruth  and 
me  to  study  together.  Of  course  she  would 
have  lessons  with  me^  for  she  must  know  a 
great  deal  more  than  any  of  the  girls  around 
here." 

There  was  a  sly  twinkle  in  Charlie's  eye  as 
he  said  this. 

"  Be  sure  and  come  back  before  Thanksgiv- 
ing, Ruth,"  he  continued.  "  The  turkeys  in 
Ferndale  beat  everything,  and  if  anybody  in 
New  York  can  make  such  mince  pies  as  my 
mother,  I'd  just  like  to  see  them  !" 

"Yes,  I  hope  we  shall  have  her  back  by 
that  time,"  I  said.  Ruth  did  not  express  any 
hope  about  it.  She  had  never  eaten  mince  pie 
in  her  life,  and  could  by  no  means  enter  into 
Charlie's  feelings  on  the  subject. 

"I  suppose  you  will  write  to  your  aunt 
while  you  are  gone.  "We  shall  all  want  to 
hear  the  news." 

Here  Bridget  interrupted  the  conversation : 

"  Arrah,  shure,  ma'am,  there's  a  poor  cratur 
outside  that  would  melt  the  very  heart  out  o' 
ye.  'Tis  a  poor  little  girl,  ma'am,  whiter  nor 
Miss  Ruth  was  the  day  she  came,  and  'tis 
sorra  a  rag  she  has  on  but  a  dress  :  the  likes 
of  it  would  not  warm  a  fly.     I  towld  her, 


A   LESSON   IN   CHARITY.  57 

ma'am,  I  would  ask  the  misthress  had  she 
anything  for  her." 

"We  all  followed  Bridget  to  the  kitchen -to 
see  the  object  of  her  warm-hearted  appeal.  It 
was  not  very  often  we  had  such  calls  upon  our 
charity  in  the  orderly  village  of  Ferndale. 

At  the  door  stood  a  little  girl  hardly  as 
large  as  Ruth,  shivering  in  her  scanty  clothes, 
and  with  a  pinched,  hungry  look  in  her  face 
that  was  painful  to  behold. 

"Come  in  by  the  fire,  child,"  I  said,  "and, 
Bridget,  give  her  a  piece  of  bread  and  meat, 
and  then  I  will  hear  what  she  has  to  say." 

Bridget  cheerfully  obeyed  the  order,  and  the 
little  girl  devoured  the  food  as  if  she  did  not 
see  it  any  too  often. 

"Please,  ma'am,"  she  began,  "we  have  just 
come  to  this  place.  Mammy,  heard  she  could 
get  work  to  do  here,  but  she  don't  know  none 
of  the  ladies  here  to  go  to,  and  the  baby  was 
took  sick,  and  she  can't  get  out,  ma'am.  It's 
sorry  times  with  us,  ma'am,  but — "  And 
here  the  little  girl  began  to  cry.  "Thank 
you  for  my  getting  warm  and  the  fine  dinner 
you  gave  me." 

Charlie  gave  a  low  whistle  when  she  called 
the  slice  of  bread  and  meat  "a  fine  dinner," 


58  RUTH   ALLEETON. 

and  coming  shyly  forward,  put  a  number  of 
pennies  into  her  hand. 

"  That's  all  I've  got,"  he  said,  apologetically. 
"  It  will  buy  something  for  the  baby." 

11  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  child,  and 
dropped  a  courtesy.  I  saw  at  once  by  Char- 
lie's pleased  look  and  sudden  straightening  up 
of  his  stout  little  person  that  the  little  word 
"  sir  "  applied  to  him  had  quite  repaid  him  for 
whatever  self-denial  his  gift  had  cost  him. 

Euth  pulled  my  sleeve :  "Do  give  her 
something,  please,  Aunt  Phebe ;  I  feel  so  sorry 
for  her." 

"What  will  you  give  her,  dear,  to  show 
you  are  sorry?  My  giving  will  not  prove 
your  sympathy." 

"  I  haven't  anything,"  she  said ;  then  after 
a  moment's  thought  she  answered,  "  The  little 
girl  can  have  my  old  doll — papa  bought  me  a 
new  one,  you  know — and  there's  my  sack  that 
you  said  I  had  outgrown,  and  that  bonnet  I 
can't  wear  any  more.  I  will  give  her  all 
those." 

"  But,  Euth,  not  one  of  those  articles  will  do 
the  poor  child  the  least  good,  neither  would 
it  be  any  charity  on  your  part  to  give  what  is 
of  no  use  to  you.     But  never  mind,  to-day; 


A   LESSON   IN   CHARITY.  59 

you  will  have  another  opportunity  of  being 
kind  before  long,  I  hope." 

Euth  coloured  and  hung  her  head,  for  Char- 
lie was  there  looking  on,  and  she  had  attempted 
to  appear  very  generous  before  him. 

"  Now,  you  children,  go  back  to  the  sitting- 
room,  and  I  will  be  there  directly."  So  say- 
ing, I  opened  the  door  and  motioned  them  out 
of  the  kitchen,  where  I  remained  to  find  out 
the  poor  child's  name  and  where  she  lived. 
Then  giving  her  a  little  basket  of  food  for 
her  mother,  I  let  her  go,  promising  to  go  and 
see  them  in  a  day  or  two. 

"When  Charlie  had  gone  home,  I  took  a  Bi- 
ble from  my  workstand  and  found  the  last 
chapter  of  Second  Samuel.  Handing  the  book 
to  Euth,  I  asked  her  to  read  aloud  to  me  from 
the  eighteenth  verse  to  the  end.  The  twenty- 
fourth  verse  I  asked  her  to  read  over  twice, 
and  then  I  said  : 

"Why  would  not  David  accept  the  oxen 
and  threshing  instruments  when  Araunah 
offered  them  to  him  ?" 

"  I  guess  it  was  because  David  was  a  king, 
and  thought  it  would  not  look  well  for  him  to 
take  such  a  present  from  a  man  that  was  not 
so  rich  as  himself." 


60  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

"All,  Ruth,  I  am  afraid  that  would  have 
been  your  reason  had  you  been  in  David's 
place.  Now,  I  feel  sure  that  David  did  not 
think  anything  about  how  it  would  look,  but 
only  that  he  had  sinned,  and  now  he  wanted 
to  show  his  sorrow  by  offering  something  of 
his  own,  and  not  some  old  thing  he  had  cast- 
aside  as  useless  to  himself,  but,  as  we  see,  that 
which  he  paid  a  price  for,  and  so  was  really 
valuable." 

"  Auntie,  ought  I  to  have  given  that  little 
girl  that  money  you  told  me  I  might  keep  to 
spend  as  I  liked  ?  I  saw  something  so  pretty 
in  a  store  window-  yesterday ;  I  went  in  and 
asked  the  price  of  it,  and  it  was  just  fifty  cents, 
but  I  had  not  my  purse  with  me.  Now,  you 
know  that  is  all  the  money  I  have  of  my  very 
own.  Now,  auntie,  ought  I  to  have  given 
that?" 

"  I  will  not  say  what  you  ought  to  have 
done,  my  child.  Whenever  you  give,  it  must 
be  a  free-will  offering,  or  else  the  Lord  will 
not  accept  it." 

The  next  day,  at  Ruth's  request,  I  took  her 
with  me  to  see  the  poor  family.  We  found 
that  the  little  girl  had  told  us  the  simple 
truth  about  their  destitution.     Mrs.   Harris, 


A    LESSON    IN    CHARITY.  61 

the  mother,  and  our  friend  Mary  Jane,  were 
in  a  wretched  apartment,  poorer  than  anything 
I  had  ever  seen  before  in  Ferndale ;  the  former 
was  busy  over  a  wash-tub,  and  Mary  Jane  sat 
rocking  a  broken  cradle  in  which  the  sick 
baby  was  lying.  Euth  went  at  once  to  look 
at  the  baby,  and  under  cover  of  my  conversa- 
tion with  the  mother  I  noticed  that  she  also 
began  talking  in  a  shy  way  to  Mary  Jane. 

Mrs.  Harris  seemed  a  respectable  person, 
and  her  account  of  their  troubles  was  very 
touching.  She  had  lately  buried  her  husband, 
and  had  been  induced  after  his  death  to  re- 
move from  their  old  home,  in  a  town  not  far 
distant,  by  a  woman  now  living  in  Ferndale. 
This  woman  had  assured  her  that  she  could 
easily  get  a  day's  work  whenever  she  wanted 
it  among  the  families  in  Ferndale,  that  Mary 
Jane  could  go  to  school,  and  that  rent  was 
much  cheaper  than  where  she  was.  Her 
friend  had  promised  to  recommend  her  to 
some  families  where  she  herself  worked,  and 
to  help  her  in  various  ways.  So  Mrs.  Harris, 
taking  her  at  her  word,  had  moved  here 
among  strangers;  she  found  this  poor  room, 
for  which  she  was  charged  more  rent  than  for 
the  more  comfortable  place  she  had  left ;  her 


62  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

baby  was  sick,  her  money  all  gone,  and  she 
had  not  a  single  friend  in  her  distress.  As 
for  her  adviser,  she  had  turned  a  cold  shoulder 
upon  her,  and  did  not  come  near  her,  now  she 
needed  help. 

"Indeed,  ma'am,"  said  the  poor  creature, 
"  I  would  never  have  sent  my  Mary  Jane  out 
to  beg  but  that  I  had  come  to  that  strait  that  I 
did  not  know  what  way  to  turn  for  a  mouthful 
to  eat,  let  alone  a  decent  frock  for  the  child. 
"When  I  saw  what  the  good  Lord  had  sent  me 
by  your  hand,  I  just  sat  down  and  cried  my 
fill,  by  way  of  saying  grace.  It  was  a  good 
supper  we  had.  But  it  is  not  such  help  I 
shall  ask,  ma'am,"  she  said,  with  a  kind  of 
pride  often  seen  in  poor  people,  or  rather  self- 
respect  than  pride ; /{ if  you  can  sometimes  give 
me  half  a  day's  work  at  scrubbing,  or  washing, 
or  any  such  thing,  I'll  thank  you  kindly."  I 
assured  her  that  I  would  see  about  that,  and 
mention  her  case  to  other  ladies. 

"But,"  said  I,  "you  could  not  leave  this 
poor  baby  to  go  out  to  work  ?" 

"I  think  Johnny  is  a  bit  better  to-day, 
ma'am,  and  if  he  keeps  on  so  I  shall  not  fear 
to  leave  him  with  Mary  Jane." 

With  another  assurance  that  I  would  find 


A   LESSON   IN   CHARITY.  63 

work  for  her  when  she  was  able  to  leave  the 
baby,  I  rose  to  go.  Looking  up  to  call  Ruth, 
I  saw  her  bend  over  the  cradle  to  kiss  the 
baby,  and  then,  with  a  whisper  to  Mary  Jane, 
she  placed  something  in  her  hand.  Mary 
Jane  stammered  forth  her  thanks,  and  Kuth 
blushed  as  she  caught  my  eye.  On  the  way 
home  I  asked : 

,  "  How  much  of  your  money  did  you  offer  to 
the  Lord,  dear  ?" 

"All,  Aunt  Phebe,  all,  and  I  am  so  glad. 
Why,  I  meant  to  spend  it  for  a  plaything,  and 
that  poor  little  girl  had  not  even  a  fire  to  warm 
her  hands  by." 

Euth  had  won  a  victory. 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

THE  SCHOOL   AND    THE   TEACHER. 

E.  ALLEETOIST  reached  Ferndale  late 
on  Monday  night — so  late  indeed  that 
I  had  to  resist  a  great  many  entreat- 
ies from  Euth,  enforced  as  they  were 
by  several  of  her  boa-constrictor 
embraces,  to  allow  her  to  sit  up  to  welcome 
him.  I  knew  that  she  felt  equal  just  then  to 
remain  awake  all  night  if  necessary,  but  it  was 
from  excitement  and  not  real  strength,  and  I 
was  sure  that  the  journey  next  day  was  quite 
enough  for  the  little  frame  to  endure.  I  spent 
as  much  time  as  possible  in  tucking  her  in  bed 
and  seeing  to  her  comfort,  and  gave  her  more 
good-night  kisses  than  usual,  thinking  of  the 
days  and  nights  that  would  pass  before  I 
should  see  my  pet  in  her  accustomed  place 
again.  I  closed  the  door  as  I  left  her,  bid- 
ding her  go  right  away  to  sleep,  and  went 
down  to  my  solitary  watching  for  the  traveller. 

64 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  THE  TEACHER.    65 

When  at  last  the  bell  rang  and  I  started  to 
open  the  door,  I  found  Mr.  Allerton  already 
in  the  hall,  with  Euth,  night-gowned  and  bare- 
footed, in  his  arms,  laughing  merrily  at  the 
trick  she  had  played  Aunt  Phebe.  I  had  to 
scold  very  hard  to  get  either  father  or  daugh- 
ter away  to  rest,  though  Mr.  Allerton  said, 
laughingly,  if  I  did  not  enforce  my  commands 
with  more  severity  than  that,  he  was  sure 
Euth  would  soon  be  an  utterly  spoiled  child. 
We  had  to  be  up  betimes  next  morning,  for 
there  were  last  things  to  be  stowed  away  in 
preoccupied  corners  of  the  trunk,  luncheon  to 
be  put  up  for  the  travellers,  much  grave  admo- 
nition to  be  bestowed  on  an  excited  young  lady 
who  said  "  Yes,  ma'am,"  to  everything  and 
paid  attention  to  nothing  that  was  said.  I 
felt  oppressed  with  a  desire  to  say  a  great 
deal,  and  no  ability  to  utter  a  word  of  more 
than  the  merest  commonplaces,  to  this  dear 
brother-in-law,  whom  I  should  not  see  again 
for  years,  if  ever  in  this  world.  Bridget  was 
bustling  about,  with  a  kind  desire  to  add 
something  to  the  comfort  of  Euth,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  expressing  her  feelings  at  the  very 
last  moment  by  thrusting  a  paper  of  candy 
through  the  carriage  window.  It  was  evident 
6  *  E 


66  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

that  Kuth's  love  of  teasing  had  not  destroyed 
the  friendly  feeling  between  Bridget  and  her- 
self. 

"You  must  write  to  me,  dear,  and  tell  me 
all  about  your  new  pleasures,"  I  whispered  as 
I  gave  the  last  kiss. 

They  were  off  at  last,  and  I  was  left  in  the 
lonely  house, — more  lonely  it  seemed  to  me 
than  before  my  little  girl  came,  for  then  I  was 
used  to  solitude,  and  now  I  missed  the  lively 
little  voice,  the  hop,  skip,  and  jump  of  a  child's 
feet  in  the  hall  and  on  the  stair,  and  I  felt 
sorry,  as  I  put  things  in  order  after  the  confu- 
sion of  the  last  few  hours,  to  think  there  was 
nobody  to  put  them  out  of  place  now. 

The  next  day  I  called  at  Mrs.  King's  to  in- 
quire if  Miss.  Chester  had  come,  and  how  the 
school  was  progressing.  Alice  was  alone  when 
I  entered,  practicing  her  music  lesson.  She 
left  the  piano  and  took  a  seat  beside  me  on 
the  sofa,  not  with  the  frolicsome  style  of  her 
younger  sister  Kitty,  who  was  very  affection- 
ate and  impulsive,  but  with  a  quiet  look  of 
pleasure  that  said  as  plainly  as  words,  "I  am 
glad  to  see  you." 

"Mamma  will  be  here  in  a  few  moments, 
Miss    Martin,"  she  said;    "she   has  gone  up 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  THE  TEACHER.   67 

stairs  to  poultice  poor  Sarah's  finger ;  she  is 
afraid  a  felon  is  coming  on  it." 

Sarah  was  a  servant  who  had  been  with  them 
many  years,  and  was  considered  by  all  as  a 
member  of  the  family.  It  occurred  to  me  at 
once  that  if  Sarah  were  for  a  time  unable  to 
work,  and  so  much  extra  labour  devolved  on 
the  other  servant,  perhaps  Mrs.  King  would 
be  willing  to  engage  poor  Mrs.  Harris  to  come 
in  for  a  few  hours  each  day  until  Sarah  was 
about  again. 

"Well,  how  do  you  like  your  school,  Alice?" 
I  asked.  "  Ruth  begged  me  to  tell  her  all  about 
it,  especially  if  Miss  Chester  was  cross,  and  if 
she  made  you  study  very  hard.  I  fear  Ruth 
is  going  to  prove  a  lazy  scholar." 

Alice  laughed. 

"Nobody  could  call  Miss  Chester  cross," 
she  said,  "and  as  to  study,  we  only  began  yes- 
terday, and  so  I  can't  tell  much  about  that.  I 
am  sure  Ruth  will  like  her ;  we  all  do.  She  is 
as  kind  as  can  be,  and  she  makes  ■  lessons  so 
interesting !  Why,  yesterday  we  were  recit- 
ing history,  and  she  told  us  so  many  things 
that  were  not  in  the  book  that  I  almost  for- 
got it  was  a  lesson  at  all.  But  here  comes 
mamma." 


68  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

Mrs.  King  entered  with  her  usual  cordial 
smile,  and  began  telling  me  of  poor  Sarah's 
suffering.  "That  is  my  excuse  for  keeping  you 
waiting,"  she  said.  I  then  told  her  in  few 
words  the  story  of  Mrs.  Harris'  trouble,  and 
asked  if  during  Sarah's  absence  from  the 
kitchen  she  could  not  find  work  for  her. 

"The  very  person  I  want,"  said  good  little 
Mrs.  King,  who  never  seemed  as  happy  as  when 
she  had  a  good  excuse  for  doing  somebody  a 
kindness;  and  now  she  was  delighted  with  a 
want  in  her  kitchen  that  could  be  met  by  help- 
ing this  poor  woman  and  allow  her  to  exercise 
her  all-abounding  charity  under  cover  of  a 
household  necessity.  I  promised  to  send  Mrs. 
Harris  to  see  her  next  day. 

Alice  had  taken  her  books  and  left  the  room 
while  we  were  talking,  and  I  was  not  sorry  for 
the  chance  of  asking  Mrs.  King  her  opinion 
of  the  new  teacher. 

"I  am  sorry  she  is  not  here  for  you  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  her,"  she  said.  "After 
school  she  complained  of  headache,  and  I  rec- 
ommended a  brisk  walk  in  this  fine  air  as  a 
cure.  Charlie  and  Kitty  have  led  her  off  to- 
some  of  their  favourite  haunts." 

"  I  saw  her  with  you  on  Sunday,  I  suppose — 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  THE  TEACHER.    69 

that  is,  I  observed  a  lady  in  mourning  sitting 
beside  you  in  church." 

"Yes,  that  was  Miss  Chester." 

Here  we  were  interrupted  by  a  ring  at  the 
door  and  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Gilbert,  whose 
two  daughters  had  joined  Miss  Chester's  class. 
This  was  a  lady  whose  presence  always  affected 
me  like  a  sudden  gust  of  east  wind;  not  that 
she  was  a  disagreeable  person,  but  simply  that 
between  us  there  was  an  entire  want  of  sym- 
pathy, and  I  am  very  susceptible  to  the  kind 
of  atmosphere  about  me,- whether  outward  or 
inward.  We  all  said  "  Good-afternoon  "  to  each 
other  in  a  sort  of  chorus,  and  then  Mrs.  Gil- 
bert's handsome  silk  dress  rustled  into  the 
easy-chair  between  Mrs.  King  and  myself. 

"Ah,  Miss  Martin,"  began  the  new-comer, 
"it  is  fortunate  that  I  meet  you  here,  for  we 
are  all  interested  in  the  same  subject.  I  came 
to  ask  Mrs.  King  something  about  this  school 
business.  I  hear  you  are  going  to  send  your 
niece." 

I  had  only  time  to  nod  my  head  in  reply, 
for  the  voluble  lady  had  really  come  not  to 
"ask"  about  the  school  or  anything  else,  but 
to  pour  forth  her  own  opinions  on  the  subject. 

"Now,  really,"  she  began,  in  a  confidential 


70  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

tone,  and  bending  over,  as  if  she  was  afraid 
the  canary  bird  in  his  cage  were  going  to  listen 
and  repeat  her  words — "now,  really,  between 
ourselves,  I  don't  believe  in  this  extra  pious 
sort  of  education.  I  beg  pardon,  Mrs.  King; 
don't  get  affronted.  I  wouldn't  find  fault  for 
the  world,  and  I  am  the  last  person  to  speak 
against  religion,  being  a  church  member  my- 
self. The  fact  is,  my  Sue  came  home  yester- 
day and  told  me  that  Miss  Chester  made  them 
all  say  a  Bible  lesson  first  thing, — opened 
school  with  prayer  too.  If  it  were  for  once,  I 
would  not  mind,  of  course,  but  the  girls  say 
she  means  to  keep  this  up  as  a  regular  thing. 
Now,  my  Sue  and  Clara  are  well  brought  up, 
if  I  do  say  it.  "We  are  a  church-going  family, 
Mrs.  King,  and  we  have  great  respect  for 
prayers,  Bible-reading,  and  all  that ;  but,  as  my 
husband  says,  we  pay  a  preacher  to  give  us 
religion,  and  a  teacher  to  give  us  education, 
and  he  is  not  going  to  pay  for  the  religion 
twice  over,  and  have  the  girls  cheated  out  of 
some  of  their  lessons  by  it." 

"  Mrs.  Gilbert,"  said  Mrs.  King,  very  soberly, 
"if  you  really  object  to  having  your  daughters 
devote  half  an  hour  a  day  to  prayer  and  study 
of  the  Scriptures,  I  have  no  doubt  Miss  Ches- 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  THE  TEACHER.   71 

ter  can  arrange  to  have  them  occupied  with 
their  lessons  while  the  rest  are  so  employed. 
For  my  own  part,  I  engaged  Miss  Chester  not 
only  for  her  abilities  to  teach  French,  Music, 
and  all  the  usual  branches  of  English  with 
thoroughness,  but  because  she  could  and  would 
instruct  my  children  in  religious  truth :  surely, 
surely,  as  a  Christian  mother,  you  cannot  think 
the  time  so  spent  is  wasted?" 

"Oh,  not  at  all,  not  at  all;  you  quite  mis- 
understand me,  I  am  sure.  I  can  quite  rely 
on  your  judgment,  my  dear  Mrs.  King,  and  am 
very  sorry  if  I  have  given  offence,  very." 

Thus  Mrs.  Gilbert  ran  on,  wishing  to  gain 
her  point,  but  without  losing  the  good  opinion 
of  her  hearers. 

"I  would  not  make  a  change  in  your  ar- 
rangements, I  assure  you;  but  if  it  makes  no 
difference  to  Miss  Chester,  I  will  let  Sue  and 
Clara  come  here  half  an  hour  later.  The  poor 
girls  are  really  driven  too  hard  for  time  for 
their  sewing  and  reading  and  such  things. 
They  are  so  familiar  with  the  Bible  already 
that  I. am  sure  that  they  do  not  need — " 

Voices  were  heard  in  the  hall,  and  the  two 
children  rushed  in,  Miss  Chester  following 
quietly.     We  were   introduced  to  the  young 


72  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

lady,  and  immediately  Mrs.  Gilbert  took  her 
leave,  but  not  till  she  had  astonished  Mrs. 
King  and  myself  by  telling  Miss  Chester  how 
truly  delighted  she  was  to  have  her  daughters 
in  such  good  hands,  and  that  she  felt  exceed- 
ingly grateful  to  her  dear  friend  Mrs.  King 
for  bringing  so  excellent  a  teacher  to  the 
neighbourhood. 

To  all  this  Miss  Chester  simply  bowed,  and 
the  visitor  hastened  away.  I  lingered  to  speak 
to  Miss  Chester  about  Euth,  and  explain  to 
her  why  she  had  gone  away  just  as  school  was 
to  begin.  She  expressed  much  interest  in  my 
little  African,  and  asked  if  I  had  any  idea  that 
Euth  would  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  her  pa- 
rents, and  become  a  missionary  when  she  grew 
up.  I  answered  as  I  felt — that  I  wished  most 
earnestly  that  she  might  be  led  to  do  so,  but 
that  as  yet  I  saw  nothing  in  the  little  girl's 
character  to  build  such  a  hope  upon. 

"I  used  to  think  seriously  about  entering 
upon  missionary  work  myself,"  said  Miss  Ches-. 
ter,  "but  I  aimed  too  high.  My  father's  ill- 
health  for  so  many  years  made  it  evident  that 
my  duty  was  to  be  with  him,  and  since  then 
the  Lord  has  shown  me  that  he  had  prepared 
humbler  paths  for  me  to  walk  in." 


THE  SCHOOL  AND  THE  TEACHER.   73 

"You  can  glorify  him  as  much  in  guiding 
young  souls  to  the  Saviour,  my  dear  young 
lady,  as  in  any  other  way :  do  you  not  think 
so?" 

"Oh  yes!  if  he  will  bless  me  in  this  effort, 
I  can  ask  for  nothing  higher." 

I  took  leave  very  soon,  for  I  wished  to  call 
and  tell  Mrs.  Harris  of  the  employment  prom- 
ised before  going  home.  How  pleasant  it  al- 
ways is  to  carry  good  news !  I  found  the  good 
woman  busy  with  her  needle,  and  Mary  Jane 
dancing  little  Johnny  about  in  her  arms,  the 
crowing  I  heard  as  I  opened  the  door  bearing 
witness  that  he  was  better. 

"Take  a  seat,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Harris, 
handing  me  the  best  of  three  broken  chairs. 
"  You  see  Johnny  is  a'most  well  again,  and 
thanks  to  you  and  Miss  Euth  we  are  more 
comfortable  than  the  last  time  you  come." 

"Are  you  ready  now  to  go  out  to  work?" 
I  inquired. 

"Indeed  I  am  ready,  and  glad  indeed  if 
you  have  any  such  good  news  for  me,"  ex- 
claimed the  poor  woman. 

When  I  told  her  of  the  engagement  I  had 
made  for  her  with  Mrs.  King,  she  did  not 
quite  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  for  joy. 
7 


74  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

As  for  Mary  Jane,  she  repeated  all  I  had  said 
in  a  low  voice  to  Master  Johnny,  with  assur- 
ance that  mammy  would  buy  him  a  stick  of 
candy  when  she  got  paid  for  the  work ;  where- 
upon Johnny  uttered  an  enthusiastic  crow,  as 
if  he  understood  the  whole  matter. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

RUTH'S    VISIT   TO  NEW   YORK. 


w  HE  last  of  the  week  a  letter  arrived 
for  me  from  New  York.     Mr.  Aller- 


ton  wrote  that  they  had  safely  reached 
their  destination,  that  Ruth  had  kept 
up  surprisingly  well  during  the  jour- 
ney, but  that  the  next  day  she  had  been  fever- 
ish and  languid.  "  African  constitutions,"  he 
said,  "cannot  endure  American  excitement." 
Ruth  had  wondered  at  everything  on  the  way, 
had  coaxed  papa  to  buy  every  new  article 
offered  for  sale  in  the  cars,  and  had  attracted 
the  attention  of  all  her  fellow-passengers  by 
addressing  a  coloured  boy  in  the  opposite  seat 
in  the  language  of  the  African  tribe-  among 
whom  she  had  lived.  The  boy  had  looked  at 
her  with  amazement,  and  Mr.  Atherton  said 
it  was  with  some  difficulty  he  convinced  the 
child  that  coloured  people  in  America  spoke 
only  in  English. 

"  She  will  learn  to  be  civilized  very  rapidly 

75 


76  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

here/'  wrote  the  father.  "  Sister  Esther  has 
taken  in  hand  to  improve  her  manners,  and 
has  insisted  upon  giving  her  several  new  arti- 
cles of  dress,  for  which  I  am  very  sorry,  be- 
cause it  is  so  easy  to  fill  up  a  little  heart  with 
trifles  of  this  world,  and  so  hinder  it  in  its 
preparation  for  a  better.  But  Sister  Esther 
means  well;  she  says  I  am  an  old  fogy  and 
don't  know  what  is  good  for  Euth  half  as  well 
as  she  does." 

Enclosed  in  Mr.  Allerton's  letter  was  a 
small  sheet  covered  with  large  and  irregular 
characters;  this  caused  me  a  good  deal  of 
study,  but  at  last,  by  dint  of  wiping  my 
glasses  and  making  several  good  guesses,  I 
made  out  the  following  : 

"  My  deer  ant  phebe  :  i  never  rote  a  letter 
in  my  life,  plese  dont  let  charlie  king  see 
this,  he  wood  make  fun  of  it.  i  think  this 
is  a  wunderful  place,  ant  ester  is  reel  good 
to  me  and  cusin  kate  to.  ant  ester  knows  a 
little  girl  hoo  is  going  to  have  a  party  next 
weke  and  she  has  asked  me  to  come,  ant 
ester  has  bort  me  the  hansomest  dres  you  ever 
saw.  giv  my  love  to  kitty  king  and  to 
brigget  and  to  mary  jane  harris.  youre 
affecsionet  neese  Euth  Allerton." 


ruth's  visit  TO  NEW  YORK.  77 

Neither  father  nor  daughter  had  written  a 
word  of  the  parting  close  at  hand.  The  vessel 
for  Africa  was  appointed  to  sail  the  very  next 
day.  Perhaps  Kuth,  her  little  head  turned 
with  the  brilliant  anticipations  of  the  party 
next  week,  had  forgotten  the  approaching  sep- 
aration, the  mere  mention  of  which  had  always 
brought  tears  to  her  eyes ;  and  as  for  "papa," 
he  probably  felt  it  too  keenly  to  care  to  talk 
about  it.  The  next  letter  that  came  to  me 
from  New  York  was  a  brief,  formally- worded 
epistle,  written  on  perfumed  paper  headed  by 
a  showy  monogram.  This  was  from  Mr. 
Allerton's  sister,  written  at  his  request,  she 
said,  to  let  me  know  that  he  sailed  at  the  ap- 
pointed time,  and  would  write  to  me  immedi- 
ately on  his  arrival  in  Africa.  Euth  was 
well  and  happy,  and  if  it  were  not  for  the 
arrangements  her  dear  brother  had  made  in 
regard  to  her  little  niece,  she  should  insist  on 
keeping  her  in  New  York,  where  she  could 
enjoy  the  advantages  of  a  fashionable  school 
and  polished  society.  She  had  no  doubt  Fern- 
dale  was  a  very  pleasant  place,  but  her  poor 
Kuth  would  never  acquire  any  style  there,  nor 
see  anything  of  the  world.  She  would  be  very 
glad  if  I  would  consent  to  a  yearly  visit  from 
7* 


78  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

Euth  to  herself,  at  which  times  she  would  do 
all  she  could  for  her.  For  the  present,  she 
could  not  urge  the  matter,  as  her  brother  had 
definitely  arranged  with  Mr.  More  to  take 
charge  of  Euth  on  the  journey  back  to  Fern- 
dale,  and  that  gentleman  was  to  leave  town 
on  the  following  Saturday. 

"  Only  a  few  days  more,  and  my  pet  will  be 
home  again,"  I  said  to  myself,  joyfully,  and 
went  to  tell  Bridget  the  good  news. 

"  Shure,  it's  glad  I  am,  ma'am,"  was  Brid- 
get's response.  "  She  will  be  here  in  time  to 
taste  of  the  good  things  we're  to  make  for 
Thanksgiving.  Indade,  ma'am,  I  suppose 
those  poor  haythen  sowls  where  Miss  Euth 
used  to  be  haven't  the  religion  aven  to  eat  a 
pumpkin  pie  at  Thanksgiving,  the  craturs." 

■  Bridget  stood,  with  her  arms  akimbo,  look- 
ing earnestly  in  my  face  for  an  answer.  I 
told  her  that  it  was  true  they  did  not  keep 
Thanksgiving,  for  they  knew  nothing  about 
God,  who  gave  all  the  blessings  for  which  they 
should  thank  him.  I  tried  in  vain  to  rouse 
the  girl's  sympathy  for  the  souls  of  the  heathen 
Africans.  Her  mind  could  only  grasp  the  ide  i 
that  they  had  not  even  wit  enough  to  make 
pumpkin  pies  for  the  great  occasion. 


ruth's  visit  TO  NEW  YORK.  79 

Ah,  thought  I,  there  are  many  wiser  people 
than  Bridget  who  think  that  Thanksgiving 
and  Christmas,  and  Sunday  too,  mean  occasions 
when  people  show  their  Christianity  by  eating 
good  dinners. 

Saturday  came,  and  with  it  came  our  Euth. 
Mr.  More  had  taken  care  of  her  as  far  as  New 
Haven,  and  there  had  seen  her  safely  on  board 
,the  cars  to  Ferndale,  for  our  little  town  was 
situated  on  a  branch  road  but  a  few  miles 
from  the  City  of  Elms.  It  was  a  bright  little 
face  that  met  mine  as  the  carriage  stopped 
before  the  door. 

"  You  dear  Aunt  Phebe,  I  am  so  glad  to 
get  home .!"  cried  Euth  the  moment  her  trunk 
and  herself  were  fairly  inside  the  door. 

"Are  you  really  glad  to  come  back  to  quiet 
Ferndale?"  I  asked,  eagerly,  for  I  was  afraid 
the  brief  taste  of  city  life  "would  take  away  all 
the  charm  from  our  simple  home  pleasures. 

A  hug  'accompanied  by  a  perfect  shower  of 
kisses  was  all  the  answer  I  received.  Euth 
had  to  shake  hands  with  Bridget,  pat  Carlo's 
head,  and  inquire  for  her  pet  cat.  Her  wrap- 
pings had  next  to  be  removed,  and  for  that 
purpose  we  went  up  to  her  room. 

"It  looks  so  nice  and  pleasant  here,  auntie," 


80  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

she  said,  surveying  the  little  apartment.  "It 
is  not  half  so  fine  as  the  room  I  slept  in  at 
Aunt  Esther's,  but  somehow  it  is  more  like 
one's  home.  Oh  -how  pretty !  where  did  it 
come  from?"  she  cried,  darting  to  the  window 
and  bending  over  a  bouquet  of  bright  autumn 
leaves  arranged  in  a  dainty  Parian  vase.  This 
was  a  joint  gift  from  Alice  and  Kitty  King. 
They  had  brought  it  the  day  before,  and  re- 
quested me  to  put  it  in  Euth's  room  to  be  a 
sort  of  surprise. 

"How  good  of  them!"  she  exclaimed,  and 
added,  "I  am  so  glad  now  that  I  thought  to 
bring  them  a  present;  but  mine  is  not  half  so 
nice  as  this.  You  must  let  me  open  my  trunk 
right  away,  auntie." 

I  opened  my  lips  to  utter  an  objection  to  her 
doing  so  before  she  had  rested  herself  a  while, 
but  her  hand  was  put  over  my  mouth  in  an 
instant,  and  she  said, 

"None  of  your  'buts,'  auntie!  I  have  some- 
thing for  you  here  too,  that  I  bought  in  the 
grandest  store  ever  was  built." 

Before  I  had  time  to  express  my  "buts,"  as 
she  called  them,  the  child  was  on  her  knees  in 
front  of  the  trunk  searching  for  the  desired 
parcel,  which  when  it  came  to  light  proved  to 


RUTH'S   VISIT   2£)   NEW   YORK.  81 

be  a  warm  knitted  sack.  "  To  keep  Jack  Frost 
from  biting  your  shoulders,  auntie,"  said  Buth. 
All  the  treasures  had  to  be  displayed  before 
she  could  be  coaxed  down  stairs. 

There  were  ribbons  for  Kitty  and  Alice,  a 
book  for  Charlie,  a  dashing  calico  dress  for 
Bridget,  a  pair  of  warm  mittens  for  Mary  Jane 
Harris,  and  a  whistle  for  Johnny. 

She  caught  the  troubled  expression  of  my 
face,  and  said : 

"Why,  auntie,  don't  you  think  they  will  like 
the  things?" 

"Yes,  dear,"  I  said,  "but  these  have  cost  a 
good  deal  of  money,  and  I  am  afraid  your  papa 
could  not  afford  to  let  his  little  daughter  be  so 
generous." 

Buth  clapped  her  hands  softly,  with  an  air 
of  great  satisfaction. 

"  Oh,  it  was  not  papa's  money  at  all.  Uncle 
Holden  made  me  a  present  of  ten  dollars — just 
think  of  it,  auntie ! — to  spend  as  I  liked,  so  I 
thought  it  would  be  nice  to  bring  you  all 
something.  You  thought  I  was  selfish,  and  I 
want  you  to  see  that  I  can  be  generous,  after 
all." 

Will  my  young  readers  think  I  am  a  sour, 
cross,  and  fault-finding  Aunt  Phebe  when  I 

F 


82  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

confess  to  them  that  I  sighed  when  I  heard 
Ruth  say  this?  I  said  nothing,  for  I  did  not 
want  to  mar  the  coming  home  of  my  niece  by 
any  word  of  mine,  and  then  it  would  have 
seemed  ungracious,  on  receiving  my  nice  com- 
fortable sack,  to  hint  at  a  doubt  of  the  motive 
that  prompted  the  gift.  That  night  at  prayers, 
however,  I  read  a  portion  of  that  wonderful 
chapter  which  opens  with  these  words: 

"  Take  heed  that  ye  do  not  your  alms  (right- 
eousness) before  men  to  be  seen  of  them ;  other- 
wise ye  have  no  other  reward  of  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven."  It  was  my  custom  to  add 
a  few  words  of  explanation,  and  after  the  read- 
ing I  said : 

"  Whatever  good  action  we  perform,  if  it  is 
done  in  order  that  people  may  praise  us,  be- 
comes a  sin  in  the  eyes  of  our  Father  in 
heaven.  He  does  not  look  at  what  we  give, 
even  if  it  is  to  the  poor,  but  to  the  motive 
deep  down  in  our  hearts  from  which  we  give. 
When  he  finds  that,  like  those  Pharisees  of  old, 
we  do  good  that  we  may  be  seen  of  men,  he  is 
very  apt  to  punish  us  by  giving  what  we  seek — 
honour  in  this  world,  but  dishonour  in  that  world 
where  hearts  are  judged,  and  not  actions." 

We  left  Ruth  displaying  her  pretty  things. 


ruth's  visit  TO  NEW  YORK.  83 

She  wanted  to  show  me  her  pink  silk  party- 
dress,  a  set  of  furs  and  other  handsome  presents 
from  her  aunt  Esther,  but  I  laughed  and  chased 
her  down  to  the  sitting-room,  for  I  said,  "We 
have  all  winter  long  before  us,  in  which  to  ad- 
mire your  finery,  and  this  is  the  time  for  you 
to  be  resting;"  so  I  put  her  on  the  sofa  and 
poked  the  fire  into  a  blaze,  and  then  sat  down 
to  my  knitting,  while  the  lively  little  tongue 
rattled  on.  That  member  could  not  rest  until 
all  the  details  of  the  visit  to  New  York  were 
given. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,  dear,"  I  said,  "  from  the 
very  beginning.  It  is  a  long  time  since  I  was 
in  New  York,  and  I  shall  enjoy  looking  at  it 
this  time  through  your  eyes." 

"You  don't  know  how  to  look  through 
African  spectacles,  though,  auntie,"  she  said, 
laughing,  "but  I'll  try  and  tell  you  how 
things  looked.  The  first  day  or  two  I  could 
not  bear  the  noise.  The  little  boys  that  sell 
papers,  and  the  people  that  take  things  about 
in  wagons  to  sell,  and  the  men  that  have  car- 
riages at  the  depot,  and  want  you  to  ride  in 
them, — they  all  shout  so !  It  was  just  like  the 
town-people  in  Africa  in  dancing-time,  when 
they  blow  horns  and  beat  drums  and  make  all 


84  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

the  noise  they  can.  It  was  quiet,  though,  on 
the  street  where  Uncle  Holden  lived.  Their 
house  is  so  full  of  queer  things.  I  suppose 
you  know  about  gas,  auntie,  do  you?  Well,  I 
didn't,  and  the  first  time  I  saw  the  girl  light- 
ing up  those  great  chandeliers  I  asked  her  if 
it  did  not  take  a  good  while  to  trim  so  many 
lamps  every  day.  She  laughed  at  me,  and  told 
it  to  everybody,  and  they  made  fun  of  me,  and 
I  was  so  ashamed.  Then  they  had  there  funny 
little  things  stuck  in  the  walls,  all  over  the 
house,  just  like  that  thing  in  the  kitchen  Brid- 
get uses  to  pour  vinegar  and  such  things  into 
bottles  with.  I  wanted  to  ask  what  they  poured 
through  these,  but  I  was  not  going  to  be  laughed 
at  twice,  and  pretty  soon  I  saw  Aunt  Esther 
put  her  mouth  to  one  of  them  and  call  the  girl. 
Then,  auntie,  it  is  so  queer,  but  they  don't  have 
to  put  water  on  the  fire  to  get  hot  as  you  do. 
In  my  room  I  had  just  to  turn  a  little  screw, 
and  the  water  came  into  a  basin,  getting  hotter 
and  hotter." 

I  interrupted  Euth  long  enough  to  explain 
that  it  was  not  turning  the  screw  that  made 
the  water  hot,  and  before  we  were  fairly 
launched  again  upon  the  recital  of  wonders 
there  came  a  second  interruption  in  the  form 


ruth's  visit  TO  NEW  YORK.  85 

of  Mary  Jane  Harris.  She  came  in  with  a 
very  beaming  face,  and  made  her  best  curtsey 
to  Ruth,  who  exclaimed  : 

"  How  nice  you  look,  Mary  Jane  !"  A  second 
glance  revealed  to  her  some  of  her  own  old 
garments  cut  over  and  cleaned,  at  which  she 
seemed  pleased,  but  said  nothing. 

If  the  little  freckled  face  beamed  when  she 
entered,  it  actually  glowed  with  happiness 
when  she  turned  to  go  home  with  the  new 
mittens  on  the  poor  little  red  hands  that  had 
never  been  so  well  covered  before,  and  in  her 
pocket  the  whistle  for  Johnny,  that  seemed  to 
please  her  even  more  than  her  own  new 
property. 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  the 
visitor,  Ruth's  thoughts  turned  back  to  the 
all-absorbing  subject  of  her  visit.  "  Now, 
Aunt  Phebe,"  she  began,  "  I  want  to  tell  you 
about  the  party." 

"Oh  yes,"  I  answered;  "I  want  to  hear 
how  you  enjoyed  the  party.  I  suppose  you 
had  a  nice  play  with  so  many  little  girls  ?" 

"  Oh  dear,  no,  Aunt  Phebe  !  Little  girls  in 
New  York  don't  play.  Aunt  Esther  and 
Cousin  Kate  dressed  me  in  my  new  silk,  and 
curled  my  hair,  and  Cousin  Kate  lent  me  a 


86  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

beautiful  fan.  I  was  sure  nobody  else  would 
look  half  so  fine,  but  they  did,  and  nobody 
noticed  my  pretty  dress  a  bit.  The  rooms 
were  full  of  children,  but  they  did  not  talk  to 
each  other  until  they  were  induced — " 

"Introduced,  you  mean,  Ruth,"  I  inter- 
rupted. 

"  Oh  yes,  that  is  it.  Thank  you,  auntie. 
Well,  then  they  danced,  and  I  don't  know  how 
to  dance,  so  I  had  to  stand  still  and  look  on. 
At  last  we  went  to  supper,  and  a  boy  handed 
me  a  plate  of  some  kind  of  pudding  that  was 
so  cold  I  was  afraid  it  would  give  me  a  chill ; 
but  then  I  knew  if  I  said  anything  they  would 
laugh  at  me.  Pretty  soon  the  boy  asked  me 
if  I  wanted  some  more  ice  cream,  so  I  knew 
that  was  the  name.  It  was  not  at  all  like  the 
cream  you  put  in  your  coffee,  and  not  a  bit 
good."  ' 

"  I  am  afraid  you  did  not  enjoy  the  party 
much,  after  all,  then  ?"  I  said. 

"  Well,  no,  not  much,  auntie.  I  cried  when 
I  went  to  bed  and  thought  about  papa  alone 
out  at  sea.  I  know  he  wants  me.  I  felt  as  if 
I  had  rather  go  back  and  have  a  good  play  on 
the  beach  with  the  little  darkeys  than  go  to 
any  more  white  children's  parties." 


kuth's  visit  TO  NEW  YORK.  87 

"Poor  child!"  I  said,  "and  are  you  still  so 
homesick  ?" 

"Oh  no,  not  when  I  have  come  back  to 
you,  auntie;"  and  the  contented  smile  with 
which  Euth  looked  up  in  my  face  proved  that 
she  spoke  the  truth.  Indeed,  she  always 
spoke  truth,  even  when  it  was  against  herself, 
and  I  knew  that  with  all  her  faults  my  child 
could  not  go  far  astray  while  she  kept  an 
honest  heart. 

After  all,  Euth  was  not  spoiled  by  her  visit, 
as  I  had  feared.  She  had  enjoyed  her  new 
pleasures,  but  was  too  young  and  too  unused 
to  city  ways  to  be  led  away  by  them. 


CHAPTEE    VIII. 


THANKSGIVING-DA  Y  RESOL  UTIONS. 

fL 

vacation  in  honor  of  that  festival  so 
esteemed  in  New  England,  Thanks- 
giving day.  Kuth  enjoyed  that 
week  very  much.  She  spent  much 
time  in  the  kitchen  helping  Bridget  chop  the 
various  good  things  that  constitute  mince  pie, 
and  what  with  her  daily  walks  and  a  pretty 
constant  interchange  of  calls  between  her  and 
the  young  folks  at  Mrs.  King's,  the  days 
slipped  rapidly  by.  We  were  invited  to  join 
these  good  friends  in  their  Thanksgiving  feast, 
but  were  obliged  to  decline,  because  I  had 
already  asked  our  minister  and  his  wife  to 
dine  with  us.  Mr.  Leonard  was  one  of  those 
child-like,  humble-minded  men  whose  lowly 
thoughts  of  their  own  merits  only  serve  to 
raise  them  higher  in  the  reverence  of  those 
who  know  them.     His  cheery  presence  always 


THANKSGIVING-DAY   KESOLUTIONS.         89 

seemed  like  a  Thanksgiving  sermon ;  children 
liked  to  be  in  his  company  much  as  they  like 
to  sit  in  the  sunshine ;  yet  his  was  not  the  sun- 
shine of  an  unclouded  life,  but  rather  that 
which  comes  forth  clear  and  bright  after  a 
stormy  day.  He  had  laid  away  in  the  grave 
one  dear  child  after  another,  and  now,  in  ad- 
vancing years,  he  and  his  wife  were  left  quite 
alone.  In  place  of  his  own  lost  ones,  his 
fatherly  heart  seemed  to  take  in  all  the  chil- 
dren of  the  parish. 

Thursday  came,  a  bright,  frosty  November 
morning,  such  as  we  like  to  see  at  Thanks- 
giving-time. Euth  skipped  by  my  side  all 
the  way  to  church  as  merry  as  a  kitten. 

"Do  you  feel  thankful  to-day,  dear?"  I 
asked. 

"Yes,  auntie,  of  course  I  do,"  was  the 
answer. 

"And  what  for,  Euth?" 

"  Oh,  for  lots  of  things !  I  don't  know 
exactly :  because  I  am  glad,  I  suppose.  Why, 
what  do  you  feel  thankful  for,  auntie  ?" 

"  For  the  good  health  God  gives  me ;  for  a 
pleasant  home;  for  enough  to  eat;  for  you, 
Euth." 

Euth    was    silent    a    moment,    then    said 


90  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

gravely :  "  Auntie,  are  there  many  people  here 
in  America  too  poor  to  get  enough  to  eat  ? — as 
poor  as  Mrs.  Harris  and  Mary  Jane  ?" 

"There  are  people  so  poor  in  large  towns 
that  they  die  of  cold  and  hunger.  There  are 
thousands  of  little  children  in  New  York,  for 
instance,  who  would  be  glad  enough  to  get  the 
scraps  we  throw  to  Carlo  and  pussy  after 
dinner." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Phebe,  how  awful!  I  wish  I 
could  do  something  for  them,  but  of  course  I 
can't." 

I  was  about  to  say,  "No,  but  when  you 
grow  up,  you  must  try  to  do  something  for 
the  poor,"  but  I  checked  myself,  remembering 
that  neither  charity  nor  any  other  Christian 
grace  comes  unsought  into  the  heart  of  a 
grown-up  woman,  any  more  than  into  that  of 
a  child ;  it  must  be  educated. 

"  I  have  a  good  deal  of  sewing  on  hand  just 
now,  and  you  know  my  eyes  are  growing  weak. 
You  were  with  me  the  other  day  when  I 
bought  that  quantity  of  sheeting  and  towel- 
ling. It  has  all  to, be  hemmed  and  marked. 
Now,  you  can  do  both  those  very  neatly,  and 
if  you  would  like  to  engage  to  sew  for  an  hour 
every  day  until  it  is  all  done,  I  will  pay  you  a 


THANKSGIVING-DAY   RESOLUTIONS.         91 

good  price,  and  then  we  will  talk  over  the  best 
ways  of  using  it,  and  you  shall  choose  to  what 
kind  of  people  you  will  give.  That  will  be 
hard  work  for  you,  dear,  and  mind,  I  don't 
tell  you  to  do  it ;  I  only  am  showing  you  a 
way  in  which  to  do  good  to  the  poor  if  you 
wish,  and  leave  it  to  yourself  to  decide.  If 
made  at  all,  it  must  be  a  free-will  offering,  and 
if  you  accept  my  plan  you  will  be  able  to  say, 
with  David,  I  will  not  offer  unto  the  Lord  that 
which  cost  me  nothing." 

We  had  come  near  the  church  by  this  time, 
and  met  some  acquaintances,  who  began  mak- 
ing remarks  on  the  weather  and  such  natural 
subjects,  and  this  lasted  till  we  entered  the 
door,  so  that  Euth  would  have  time  to  think 
over  my  plan  before  she  made  any  answer.     • 

Mr.  Leonard  gave  us  an  earnest  and  prac- 
tical sermon  on  the  duty  and  the  manner  of 
leading  thankful  lives.  He  urged  his  hearers 
to  show  their  gratitude  to  God  for  all  his 
gifts,  from  that  greatest  gift  of  all,  his  dear 
Son,  down  to  the  smallest  blessing  of  daily 
life,  by  sharing  them  all  with  our  neighbour. 
Euth  listened  with  great  attention  for  such  a 
young  girl,  and  it  was  evident  from  the  little 
flush  that  always  rose  to  her  face  when  her 


92  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

feelings  were  touched  that  she  understood  and 
applied  the  sermon. 

"  And  so,  my  little  woman,  you  were  born 
a  missionary  ?"  said  Mr.  Leonard  to  Euth  at 
the  dinner-table. 

"  Oh  no,  sir,  I  am  not  a  missionary,  but  my 
father  is." 

"  Ah,  but  you  were  born  in  the  mission,  and 
it  would  be  a  shame  if  you  did  not  put  your 
hand  to  the  good  work  one  of  these  days. 
But  if  you  don't  want  to  go  to  Africa,  my 
dear,  there  is  plenty  for  you  to  do  near 
home." 

He  turned  to  me  and  began  giving  me  an 
account  of  an  institution  he  had  lately  visited 
in  one  of  our  large  cities  where  little  children 
were  taken  from  dirt  and  hunger  and  sin,  and 
brought  to  neatness,  comfort,  and  Christian 
life,  by  the  efforts  of  a  band  of  true  disciples 
of  Jesus. 

"  Oh,"  whispered  Ruth  to  me,  "  let  me  send 
that  money  I  am  going  to  earn  to  those  little 
children !" 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Mr.  Leonard,  who 
had  overheard. 

I  told  him  of  my  proposition  on  the  way 
to  church. 


THANKSGIVING-DAY   RESOLUTIONS.         93 

"  She  is  little  Lucy  Martin  over  again,  isn't 
she?"  he  said,  turning  to  Mrs.  Leonard. 
"  Don't  you  remember  how  Lucy  used  to  bring 
us  her  pennies  and  her  toys  to  put  in  the 
boxes  sent  out  to  the  missionaries  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  do  indeed ;  I  believe  that  child 
never  had  a  stick  of  candy  that  she  did  not 
divide  with  some  one.  And,"  continued  the 
good  lady,  "  I  am  glad  if  little  Kuth  is  going 
to  follow  her  mother's  example." 

"I  am  sorry  Aunt  Phebe  told  you,"  said 
Euth,  blushing, ' '  for  I  am  selfish  as  can  be,  and 
this  is  the  first  day,  the  very  first,  that  I  ever 
thought  about  working  for  money  to  give 
awajr." 

"Well,  never  mind  that,  my  dear,"  said 
Mr.  Leonard,  with  a  pleased  smile  at  her  hon- 
esty ;  "  nine  years  old  is  a  very  good  age  to  be- 
gin missionary  work.  When  you  get  all  your 
aunt's  sewing  done,  just  come  to  my  wife  and 
she  will  engage  you  to  do  some  for  her.  We 
will  keep  your  secret,  and  do  all  we  can  to 
help  you  on,  won't  we,  wife  ?" 

"  That  we  will,  I  assure  you,"  Mrs.  Leonard 
answered,  nodding  at  Kuth. 

Then  we  older  folks  got  talking  about  mat- 
ters not  at  all  entertaining  to  a  little  girl,  and 


94  BUTH   ALLEETON. 

while  we  lingered  over  the  dessert,  Ruth  asked 
to  be  excused  and  ran  to  the  kitchen  to  ask 
the  privilege  of  holding  the  baby  a  while, 
Master  Johnny  having  come  with  his  mother 
and  sister  to  take  dinner  with  Bridget.  When 
we  were  seated  in  the  parlour,  an  hour  later, 
Mr.  Leonard  took  Ruth  on  his  knee,  and 
said: 

"  Now,  my  dear,  can't  you  tell  me  something 
about  Thanksgiving  out  in  Africa?  You  kept 
the  day  at  the  mission-house,  did  you  not?" 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Euth,  well  pleased  that  she 
could  tell  a  wise  old  gentleman  and  lady  some- 
thing that  they  did  not  know,  and  that  she 
was  so  familiar  with.  "  Papa  and  mamma  used 
to  send  all  the  schoolboys  early  in  the  morn- 
ing to  the  bush  to  get  pretty  vines  and  flowers, 
and  then  we  would  all  help  trim  the  church 
and  the  school-house  so  beautifully.  Then 
the  boys  and  girls  would  bring  something  to 
give  away  that  day  to  the  poor,  and  put  them 
all  down  in  a  heap  on  the  floor." 

"Put  what  down?"  asked  Mrs.  Leonard; 
"what  could  those  poor  African  children 
bring?" 

"Oh,  you  know,  ma'am,  papa  used  to  tell 
them  all  a  week  before  the  time,  and  ask  them 


THANKSGIVING-DAY   RESOLUTIONS.         95 

to  try  and  bring  some  little  thing  that  day,  to 
show  that  they  were  really  and  truly  thank- 
ful." 

"That  was  a  good  plan,"  said  Mr.  Leonard; 
"why,  I  should  be  glad  to  introduce  that  cus- 
tom among  my  congregation ;  eh,  Miss  Martin  ? 
But  go  on ;  I  interrupted  you,  which  is  very  bad 
manners.  You  were  going  to  tell  us  how  your 
young  friends  found  anything  to  give." 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Ruth,  "  some  children  owned 
cocoanut  trees  of  their  own,  and  would  bring 
ever  so  many  cocoanuts ;  some  would  go  to  the 
bush  and  chop  as  much  wood  as  they  could 
bring :  that  would  be  given  to  some  poor  old 
woman  who  was  not  able  to  go  and  cut  wood 
for  herself.  Then  there  would  be  bunches  of 
palm  nuts  and  leaves  of  tobacco  and  rice,  just 
whatever  they  could  get.  Sometimes  the  girls 
would  come  to  mamma,  and  she  would  give 
them  work  to  do  in  the  house  to  earn  a  few 
pennies  to  give ;  and  you  know  it  was  not  only 
the  children,  for  there  were  grown-up  Chris- 
tians in  our  village,  and  everybody  gave  on 
that  day.  Then  all  the  children  got  palm 
branches  and  marched  into  church  singing 
hymns;  then  papa  or  one  of  the  other  mis- 
sionaries would  preach  to  us,  and  after  that  he 


96  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

would  divide  all  the  things  that  were  given 
and  send  them  to  the  poor  sick  people  all 
around.     Then  we  went  home  to  dinner." 

"  What  sort  of  dinner,  I  would  like  to  hear, 
did  you  have  for  Thanksgiving  ?  Not  turkey 
and  plum-pudding,  I  guess,  did  you?"  asked 
Mrs.  Leonard. 

Euth  laughed. 

"No,  ma'am,  I  don't  believe  you  ever  ate 
such  dinners  as  we  had.  The  children  had 
theirs  on  a  long  table  in  the  school-house. 
They  had  plenty  of  rice,  and  cassava,*  and 
plantains,  and  palm-butter  with  dried  fish  or 
salt  beef  in  it." 

"Please  inform  us,  Miss  African,  what  is 
palm-butter?"  inquired  Mr.  Leonard. 

"I  don't  know  just  how  cook  made  it," 
answered  Euth,  "but  it  was  made  of  palm 
nuts.  They  cooked  them,  and  then  squeezed 
out  the  juice,  and  put  plenty  of  pepper  and 
other  things  in,  and  when  it  was  brought  to 
the  table  it  looked  like" —  Euth  paused  for  a 
comparison — "more  like  some  pease  soup 
auntie  made  one  day  than  anything  else  I 
have  seen  here,  but  it  was  a  good  deal 
brighter,  and  tasted  ever  so  much  nicer.  Oh, 
*  Tapioca  is  purified  cassava. 


THANKSGIVING-DAY   EESOLUTIONS.         97 

I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  in  America  so  good 
as  rice  and  palm-butter!" 

We  all  laughed  at  this,  and  I  asked  if  the 
missionaries  themselves  had  the  same  things  to 
eat  as  the  native  scholars. 

"  Yes,  auntie,  only  sometimes,  for  a  treat,  we 
would  have  meat  or  something  that  came  in 
cans  from  America.  We  did  not  have  such 
things  often,  for  papa  said  they  cost  too  much. 
But  I  have  not  told  you  about  dumboy,  and 
dumboy  was  one  of  the  best  things  we  had." 

"Dumb  boy!  Why,  Miss  Ruth,  I  did  not 
know  you  were  a  cannibal!"  said  the  minister, 
with  pretended  horror. 

Ruth  looked  at  me  in  perplexity;  she  did 
not  want  to  own  that  she  did  not  know  what 
"cannibal  "  meant,  and  yet  she  was  afraid  to 
make  any  answer  for  fear  of  betraying  her 
ignorance. 

"Do  not  be  ashamed,  my  child,"  I  said,  "to 
tell  Mr.  Leonard  you  do  not  understand,  and  I 
am  sure  he  will  tell  you." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Leonard  seriously,  "it  is 
no  disgrace  for  such  a  little  girl  that  she  does 
not  know  the  meaning  of  a  hard  word,  but  I'll 
tell  you,  dear,  what  is  a  disgrace :  that  is  for  a 
child  to  pretend  she  knows  everything,  and  to 

9  G 


98  EUTH   ALLEETON. 

act  a  falsehood  for  fear  of  being  laughed  at.  A 
cannibal  is  one  who  eats  the  flesh  of  human 
beings.  There  are  tribes  in  Africa,  I  believe, 
who  kill  their  enemies  and  then  eat  them  up. 
I  was  in  fun  when  I  said  that  I  hoped  you  were 
not  a  cannibal ;  but  now  tell  us,  please,  what 
kind  of  dish  is  dumboy." 

Ruth,  placed  at  ease  again  by  his  kind  man- 
ner, went  on  to  tell  us  that  this  was  a  prepa- 
ration of  cassava  root,  pounded  fine  and  cooked 
in  little  white  balls.  These  are  served  in 
a  sort  of  soup,  made  exceedingly  hot  with 
peppers. 

"You  mustn't  chew  the  dumboy,"  she  said, 
"but  throw  it  right  down  your  throat,  for  if  it 
gets  between  anybody's  teeth  it  sticks  like  mo- 
lasses candy,  only  a  great  many  times  worse. 
I  once  saw  a  man — a  sea-captain — who  took 
dinner  with  us,  have  to  leave  the  table,  for  he 
had  false  teeth,  and  he  went  to  chewing  the 
dumboy,  and  his  teeth  all  came  out." 

We  all  laughed  at  this,  and  Mr.  Leonard 
said  slyly,  "Then  I  think  dumboy  would  not 
do  for  you,  wife." 

Our  guests  presently  took  their  leave,  beg- 
ging me  to  come  soon  to  see  them,  and  to  bring 
Ruth  with  me. 


THANKSGIVING-DAY   RESOLUTIONS.         99 

"You  must  be  one  of  my  children  now, 
dear,"  said  the  good  man  as  he  patted  her 
head. 

"Ruth  dear,"  I  said,  when  we  were  sit- 
ting alone  by  the  fire,  about  twilight,  "when 
all  those  poor  African  children  who  had  been 
heathen  until  the  missionaries  took  them  gave 
something  to  the  poor,  is  it  possible  that  you 
did  not  give  too?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  always  gave  whatever  papa  told 
me.  He  used  to  give  me  a  basket  of  oranges 
to  put  in  the  church  for  my  part." 

"But  that  was  not  the  best  kind  of  giving, 
was  it,  dear?" 

"No,  auntie,  but  I  was  such  a  little  girl 
then.  I  always  thought  nobody  could  expect 
me  to  do  anything  myself ;  but  I  have  learned 
better  now  than  to  give  what  costs  me  nothing, 
as  you  say.  Now,  you  just  wait  and  see  what 
a  good  girl  I  am  going  to  be  after  this." 

I  kissed  the  upturned  face  that  looked  so. 
earnest  in  the  good  resolution,  but  I  said: 

"  Don't  try  to  be  good  all  by  yourself,  Ruth, 
or  you  will  surely  fail,  but  pray  every  day  that 
God's  holy  Spirit  may  help  you  to  see  your 
faults  and  fight  bravely  against  them/' 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  QUARREL  AT  SCHOOL. 

'HE  following  Monday  opened  a  new  era 
in  Ruth's  life:  she  began  going  to 
school.  I  found  her  down  stairs  ear- 
lier than  usual  that  morning,  with  her 
hair  brushed  with  more  care  than  com- 
mon, and  a  sort  of  anxious  look  on  the  small 
face. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked;  "you  are  not  sorry 
to  begin  school?" 

"No,  auntie,  not  that,  but  I  wish  this  first 
day  was  over.  The  rest  will  all  know  lessons 
to  say,  and  I  shall  not  have  any  books  to  study 
out  of,  and  they  will  think  I  am  a  dunce,"  she 
answered,  her  face  growing  longer  at  every 
word. 

"But  Miss  Chester  will  not  expect  you  to 
say  lessons  with  the  others  till  you  have  a 
chance  to  study  them.  She  will  be  very  kind, 
I  am  sure." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  thinking  of  Miss  Chester  at 

-  500 


A   QUARREL  AT   SCHOOL.  101 

all,  auntie — she  is  just  as  good  as  can  be — but 
those  big  girls,  the  Gilberts.  I  don't  know 
them  at  all,  and  I  shall  be  so  ashamed  to  make 
mistakes  before  them." 

"Things  will  not  look  half  so  dreadful  to 
you,  dear,  when  once  you  are  seated  in  the 
school-room;  and  if  you  would  feel  ;more  at 
ease,  I  will  go  with  you  this  morning  and  see 
you  fairly  started  on  the  day's  work." 

This  proposal  seemed  to  make  things  look 
somewhat  less  fearful  to  the  child,  and  the 
anxious  expression  faded  from  her  face.  My 
company  was  not  needed,  after  all,  for  just  be- 
fore school-time  Charlie  and  Kitty  came  in  to 
see  if  Euth  was  ready,  and  to  escort  her  to 
their  house. 

I  was  busy  all  day  with  the  numberless 
little  matters  that  fill  up  a  housekeeper's  life, 
even  though  the  housekeeper  be  a  solitary 
woman  like  me,  with  no  little  hands  to  hinder 
the  work,  nor  children's  feet  to  soil  the  carpets, 
nor  even  a  family  of  grown  people  for  whose 
comfort  one  is  responsible.  The  hourly  striking 
of  the  clock  seemed  to  echo  through  the  house 
at  very  short  intervals,  and  I  was  surprised 
when  Euth's  voice  rang  out  merrily  on  the 
stairs :  "Aunt  Phebe,  where  are  you?"     Then 

9* 


102  RUTH  ALLERTOH. 

a  bright  little  face  peeped  in  through  the  door 
of  the  room  where  I  sat  sewing. 

"Oh,  auntie,  is  dinner  almost  ready?" 

"  Yes,  Bridget  is  only  waiting  to  know  that 
you  have  come;  you  can  go  and  show  your 
face  at  the  kitchen  door." 

1  [  Study  is  a  very  good  tonic  for  you,"  I  said 
as  we  sat  at  table,  and  I  saw  the  food  disap- 
pearing with  great  rapidity  from  the  hungry 
little  girl's  plate. 

it  I  guess  it  is  not  the  study  to-day,  auntie, 
for  I  didn't  do  much  at  that,-  but  we  had  a 
splendid  game  at  hide-and-seek- at  recess,  and 
then  Kitty  and  I  ran  all  the  way  to  Mrs.  Gil- 
bert's and  back;  so  you  see  I  had  something 
besides  the  study  to  make  me  hungry." 

"  Why,  dear,  what  did  you  and  Kitty  go  to 
Mrs.  Gilbert's  for?" 

"Sue  had  left  her  slate  at  home,  and  she 
wanted  to  use  it  directly  after  recess ;  she  had 
to  have  her  own,  too,  for  Miss  Chester  won't 
allow  us  to  borrow  each  other's  things." 

"Why  did  not  Sue  go  home  for  it  herself, 
then?" 

"Oh,  she  said  she  did  not  feel  like  it,  but 
that  the  walk  would  do  us  little  girls  good,  and 
if  we  were  not  back  by  the  time  the  bell  rang, 


•I  A   QUARREL   AT   SCHOOL.  103 

she  would  make  some  excuse  for  us  to  Miss 
Chester.  Sue  is  real  lazy — Kitty  says  so — and 
she  thinks  that  all  little  girls  are  good  for  is 
just  to  wait  on  her." 

Ruth  spoke  as  if  she  did  not  quite  agree  with 
that  view  of  the  case. 

"How  old  is  Sue?"  I  asked. 

"  She  is  twelve  and  Clara  is  fourteen,  and," 
said  Ruth,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  "  I  hope, 
when  I  get  as  old  as  they  are,  I  shall  know  a 
little  more.  Only  think,  auntie!  Alice  King 
is  younger  than  Clara,  and  yet  she  has  harder 
lessons  to  say.  Sue  and  Clara  recite  with 
Charlie,  and  Kitty  and  I  are  a  class  by  our- 
selves." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  hear  you  speak  so,  Ruth," 
said  I ;  "  the  desire  to  be  a  good  scholar  is  a 
worthy  ambition,  but  from  your  expression  I 
judge  you  are  thinking  only  of  the  pleasure 
of  outshining  your  schoolmates.  It  sounded 
so,  dear,  did  it  not  ?" 

"  Well,  Aunt  Phebe,  I  know  it  is  wrong  to 
feel  so,  but  if  you  were  a  little  girl  like  me, 
and  saw  a  great  girl  like  Clara  Gilbert  putting 
on  airs  just  because  she  was  big,  and  had  a 
prettier  dress  than  you  had,  and  a  pair  of  gold 
earrings  for  her  very  own,  and  was  a  dunce  in 


104  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

spite  of  all,  wouldn't  you  feel  cross — -just  a 
little  bit— auntie  ?" 

I  could  not  help  laughing  at  Euth's  way  of 
putting  the  question,  and  I  had  not  much  to 
say  in  defence  of  Clara  Gilbert,  who  was  really 
a  vain  and  worldly-minded  girl,  who  prided 
herself  on  her  father's  money  and  her  own 
good  looks,  and  considered  going  to  school  a 
great  bore. 

To  Euth's  question  I  did  not  answer,  as  I 
know  a  great  many  grown  people  would  have 
done,  that  I  should  not  have  felt  cross  at  all, 
but  only  sorry  that  the  big  girl  should  be  so 
foolish.  We  old  folks  are  so  very  apt  to  forget 
how  we  felt  when  we  were  children,  and  to  say 
in  reply  to  all  such  pointed  questions  that  we 
should  have  done  had  we  been  in  the  place  of 
the  little  ones  just  what  our  mature  judg- 
ment and  grown-up  superiority  to  the  tempta- 
tion teach  us  would  be  the  right  thing  to  do. 
I  only  said : 

"  Very  likely,  if  I  were  a  little  girl,  and  a 
big  girl  should  put  on  airs  to  me,  as  you  say 
Clara  does,  I  should  feel  cross  too ;  but  then  I 
hope  I  should  pray  and  strive  after  a  better 
spirit  and  a  humble  mind  that  would  not  be 
disturbed  by  the  pride  of  anybody  else.    Don't 


A   QUARREL   AT   SCHOOL.  105 

you  think  that  would  make  you  happier,  dear, 
and  set  Clara  a  better  example,  too,  than  to 
resent  her  l  airs  '  ?" 

"  You  always  tell  me  the  right  thing  to  do, 
auntie,  and  I  mean  to  be  good,  too,  but  it  is 
so  hard." 

"Hard!  yes,  I  know  it  is,  my  darling,  but 
nothing  is  too  hard  for  those  who  have  God's 
holy  Spirit  to  help  them  every  day  and  all 
day,  and  that  help  we  can  always  have  for 
the  asking."  • 

Kuth  was  in  a  sober  mood  after  our  conver- 
sation, and  when  dinner  was  over  asked  me 
if  I  had  any  sewing  ready  for  her  with  such  a 
grave,  self-denying  look  on  her  face  that  I 
said :  * 

"  Not  just  yet,  dear ;  you  have  been  sitting 
still  nearly  all  day,  and  must  run  about  a  while 
before  I  can  let  you  begin  your  sewing.  So 
you  have  not  changed  your  mind  about  your 
Thanksgiving-day  resolution  f" 

"  I  don't  feel  as  much  like  earning  money 
just  to  give  away  as  I  did  then,"  said  Euth, 
rather  dolefully,  "but  it  looks  mean  to  say 
you'll  do  a  thing  and  then  give  it  up." 

" '  Looks  f  '  looks  !'  I  wish  that  word  would 
drop  out  of  your  dictionary.     Now  put  on 


106  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

your  hat,  dear ;  I  have  an  errand  at  the  other 
end  of  town  that  I  want  you  to  do  for  me,  and 
when  you  come  back  you  may  begin  hemming 
these  towels." 

Euth  came  back  quite  fresh  for  her  work 
in  mind  as  well  as  body.  A  brisk  walk  in  a 
bright,  cool  day  does  a  great  deal  to  clear  the 
cobwebs  off  our  minds  and  make  matters 
straight  that  looked  quite  crooked  before. 

Euth  sat  down  beside  me  to  her  self-imposed 
task  with  as  hearty  «a  zeal  in  her  charitable 
undertaking  as  she  had  shown  at  the  first.  It 
was  tedious  work  for  the  small  fingers  to  turn 
the  hems  straight  and  set  the  stitches  with  all 
the  neatness  that  so  particular  a  person  as 
Aunt  Phebe  required,  but  the  rule  was,  "  poor 
work,  half  pay,"  and  Euth  did  not  mean  that 
the  objects  of  her  charity  should  suffer  through 
her  carelessness. 

For  some  time  things  seemed  to  go  very 
smoothly  with  Euth.  Her  books  were  pro- 
cured and  her  daily  lessons  learned  with  a 
degree  of  interest  I  had  not  expected  in  a 
child  so  unused  to  regular  duties  and  fixed 
hours.  Between  herself  and  little  Kitty  King 
a  very  warm  friendship  sprang  up,  and  the 
admiration  of  both  children  for  their  teacher 


A   QUARREL   AT  SCHOOL.  107 

was  unbounded.  This  appreciation  of  Miss 
Chester  was  in  no  wise  shared  by  the  two  Gil- 
berts ;  the  vain  Clara  and  the  lazy  Sue  regard- 
ing her  simply  as  a  task-mistress  from  whoso 
sway  they  would  gladly  have  freed  themselves. 
They  must  submit,  however ;  for  an  education 
must  be  obtained  if  they  expected  to  appear 
well  in  society,  as  their  mother  argued  with 
them  whenever  they  complained  to  her  of 
school  difficulties.  As  to  appear  well  in  society 
was  the  grand  aim  of  the  future  to  these  two 
girls,  such  reasoning  was  generally  effective. 

One  day  it  happened  that  Clara  had  passed 
a  peculiarly  uncomfortable  morning ;  she  had 
completely  failed  in  her  grammar  lesson,  and 
had  been  twice  sent  to  her  seat  to  learn  it 
over.  In  vain  had  Miss  Chester  spent  every 
spare  moment  in  trying  to  smooth  the  stumb- 
ling-blocks from  the  girl's  way :  Clara  either 
could  not  or  would  not  learn  the  lesson.  Miss 
Chester  finally  told  her  that  she  could  not  go 
on  with  her  class  until  that  particular  task 
was  accomplished  and  a  perfect  recitation 
given.  This  decision  mortified  Clara  ex- 
tremely, particularly  as  a  low  whistle  from 
Charlie's  corner  showed  that  one  at  least  of 
her  class  regarded  it  as  a  downfall  somewhat 


108  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

more  than  ordinary.  In  a  vain  endeavour  to 
help  a  bad  case,  she  made  a  very  saucy  speech 
to  Miss  Chester,  of  which,  however,  no  notice 
was  taken.  When  school  was  over,  the  other 
girls  gathered  around  Clara's  desk. 

"How  could  you  speak  so,  Clara?"  Alice 
asked,  very  gently;  "I  am  afraid  Miss  Ches- 
ter's feelings  were  hurt." 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed,  indeed  you 
ought,"  was  Euth's  excited  remark;  "Miss 
Chester  was  so  patient  with  you." 

"So  patient,  eh?"  retorted  Clara,  between 
her  angry  sobs.  "  She  is  paid  for  it,  isn't  she  ? 
It  is  her  business  to  be  patient  and  make  us 
understand  the  horrid  things;"  and  with  this 
she  threw  the  offending  grammar  across  the 
room. 

"  I  wonder  how  much  patience  Clara  would 
have  if  it  were  her  business  and  she  was  paid 
for  it?"  muttered  Euth  in  an  undertone  to 
Kitty. 

Unfortunately,  the  remark  was  overheard 
by  the  angry  girl,  and  she  turned  upon  Euth 
with: 

"  That  sounds  like  a  missionary's  daughter, 
now,  don't  it?  I  hate  these  people  that  look  so 
prim  and  think  themselves  so  much  better  than 


A  QUARREL   AT  SCHOOL.  109 

everybody  else.  Is  that  the  way  your  father 
teaches  those  heathen  darkies  to  speak  about 
their  betters,  eh,  Ruth  Allerton?" 

"  Don't  say  anything  now,  Kuth,  please 
don't,"  pleaded  Kitty  as  Ruth's  colour  came 
and  her  hand  fairly  trembled  in  Kitty's,  but 
her  entreaty  was  in  vain. 

"I  only  spoke  the  truth,  and  you  know  it, 
and  you  have  no  business  to  speak  so  about  my 
father.  He  is  a  better  man  than  your  father, 
if  he  hasn't  got  so  much  money,  and  you 
needn't  call  yourself  my  betters,  neither,  for 
all—" 

Here  Miss  Chester's  entrance  put  a  stop  to 
the  angry  words  which  were  coming  thick  and 
fast  between  the  two  girls.  Silence  but  not 
peace  was  restored,  and  with  a  very  withering 
look  at  Ruth,  Clara  arranged  her  books,  put  on 
her  bonnet,  and  beckoning  to  Sue  to  follow,  left 
the  room. 

I  was  quite  startled  at  my  little  niece's  un- 
usual expression  of  face  when  she  entered  the 
house  at  a  later  hour  than  usual.  Charlie  and 
Kitty  came  with  her,  to  tell  me  all  about  it, 
as  they  said.  They  were  very  indignant  at 
Clara,  whom  neither  of  them  liked,  and  very 
staunch  in  the  defence  of  their  favourite  Ruth. 
id 


110  EUTH  ALLEETON. 

I  am  able  to  give  a  pretty  exact  account  of  tb«* 
occurrence,  for  the  three  children  repeated 
every  word,  one  reiterating  what  another  said, 
and  the  next  day  the  quiet  Alice  came  in  to 
tell  me  just  how  it  all  happened,  and  how  sorry 
she  was.  But  when  I  first  heard  the  story  from 
the  excited  children,  I  was  much  inclined  to 
reprove  Ruth,  so  grieved  was  I  at  such  an  ex- 
hibition of  temper  on  her  part. 

" Don't  scold  her,  Miss  Martin;  she's  a  reg- 
ular brick,  Ruth  is ;  she  stood  up  for  herself 
like  a  good  fellow,"  said  Charlie,  taking  a  boy's 
view  of  the  case. 

"  Auntie  never  scolds,"  said  Ruth,  humbly, 
"but  I  know  J  deserve  it." 

Feeling  sure  that  conscience  would  deal  with 
the  child  more  effectually  than  any  outside  re- 
prover, I  did  not  refer  to  the  subject  after 
Charlie  and  Kitty  went  home,  but  left  her 
alone  the  rest  of  the  afternoon,  hoping  that 
the  excitement  would  pass  away  the  sooner, 
and  that  she  might  be  brought  to  a  better 
mind. 


CHAPTEE    X. 

LITTLE  JOHNNY'S  DEATH. 

UTETS  Bible  was  lying  open  on  the 
table  one  day,  and  I  took  it  up  to 
place  it  with  her  other  books,  when 
my  eye  fell  on  a  marked  passage.  It 
was  this  saying  of  the  wisest  of  kings : 
"He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better  than  the 
mighty ;  and  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit,  than  he 
that  taketh  a  city." 

Kuth  entered  the  room  at  that  moment  to 
collect  her  books  before  starting  for  school,  and 
seeing  me  glance  at  the  text  where  a  leaf  was 
turned  down,  said  soberly  : 

"Miss  Chester  marked  that  yesterday,  and 
asked  me  to  read  it  over  each  morning  when  I 
came  into  school." 

"I hope,  dear  child,  that  you  and  Clara  Gil- 
bert are  not  keeping  up  that  foolish  quarrel 
yet." 

"We  don't  quarrel,  auntie,  for  she  will  not 

m 


112  BUTH  ALLERTON. 

speak  to  me  at  all,  but  she  does  all  sorts  of 
mean  things  to  get  me  into  trouble,  and  school 
is  not  half  so  pleasant  as  it  used  to  be." 

As  she  spoke  there  was  a  choked  sound  in 
the  poor  child's  voice,  and  a  hurried  search  for 
her  handkerchief  as  she  hastened  out  of  the 
room,  that  told  pretty  plainly  of  the  tears  she 
tried  to  hide. 

My  poor  little  Ruth !  Already  thorns  were 
springing  in  her  path  that  all  Aunt  Phebe's 
love  had  no  power  to  pluck  up,  and  there  was 
only  one  salve  that  could  heal  the  wounds  they 
made.  She  had  not  learned  very  fully  yet  how 
to  seek  for  that,  for  prayer  at  her  age  is  too 
apt  to  be  used  as  a  formal  duty  rather  than  a 
priceless  privilege,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  sought 
as  a  teacher  only,  not  a  comforter. 

"  Please,  Miss  Martin,"  piped  a  small  voice 
in  the  hall,  "can  I  come  in?"  I  opened  the 
door,  and  there  stood  our  friend,  Mary  Jane 
Harris,  looking  very  much  distressed. 

"Please,  ma'am,  are  you  very  busy?"  she 
asked. 

"Not  too  busy  to  hear  what  you  have  to 
say,  so  come  in  to  the  fire  while  you  talk. 
Why,  I  must  see  that  you  have  a  new  pair  of 
shoes.     I   hope   nothing  has  gone  wrong  at 


LITTLE   JOHNNY'S   DEATH.  113 

your  house,  child  ?"  I  said,  holding  the  door 
open  for  her  to  enter. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Martin,  Johnny's  took  sick,  and 
mammy's  away  working  at  Mrs.  King's.  I 
came  to  you  first,  ma'am,  'cause  I  thought  you 
would  tell  me  what  to  do  for  Johnny,  or 
maybe  you  would  please  come  and  take  a  look 
at  him.  You  see,  ma'am,  if  I  went  for 
mammy,  it  would  worrit  her  so  she  might 
lose  her  day's  work  when  there  was  no  need." 

"I  am  glad  you  came  right  here,  Mary 
Jane;  you  were  a  sensible  little  woman  to 
think  about  your  mother  in  that  way.  But 
where  did  you  leave  the  baby?" 

"  He's  asleep  in  his  cradle,  ma'am,  and  I 
thought  I  could  just  run  here  and  back  before 
he  would  wake." 

While  Mary  Jane  was  speaking  I  had  put 
on  my  things,  and  after  placing  in  my  reticule 
two  or  three  articles  I  thought  might  be  of 
use  to  the  sick  child,  we  set  forth.  We  found 
poor  Johnny  moaning  in  his  restless  sleep,  and 
presently  he  uttered  that  peculiar  sound,  so 
dreaded  by  mothers,  betokening  croup.  I 
took  him  in  my  lap,  and  set  Mary  Jane  to 
brightening  up  the  fire  and  heating  water, 
while  I  did  what  I  could  to  relieve  the  little 

10*  H 


114  KUTH  ALLERTON. 

sufferer.  He  seemed  to  grow  worse  instead 
of  better,  and  at  last  I  thought  best  to  send 
Mary  Jane  for  her  mother.  When  she  came 
I  placed  Johnny  in  her  arms  and  went  home 
to  get  some  necessary  comforts  for  the  sick 
child,  which  I  promised  to  send  at  once  by 
Bridget,  saying  I  would  come  in  again  that 
afternoon  to  see  how  he  was.  Just  as  Ruth 
and  I  were  eating  our  dinner  a  boy  came,  a 
neighbour  of  Mrs.  Harris,  with  a  message 
from  her  that  Johnny  was  dying.  I  started 
off  immediately,  leaving  Euth  gazing  wistfully 
after  me  from  the  window.  She  begged  hard 
to  be  allowed  to  go  too,  but  I  refused,  knowing 
she  would  only  be  in  the  way,  and  could  do 
no  good.  I  was  in  time  only  to  hear  the  last 
breath  drawn,  and  to  see  the  baby-face  trans- 
formed from  its  expression  of  pain  to  a  look  of 
peace  such  as  we  think  the  angels  wear. 

Poor  Mrs.  Harris  was  in  sore  distress  at 
this  sudden  blow,  and  when  she  saw  me  put- 
ting things  in  order  and  attending  to  what 
was  necessary,  she  sank  in  a  chair,  threw  her 
apron  over  her  face,  and  sobbed  aloud,  "  Oh, 
Johnny !  oh,  my  little  Johnny !"  For  lack  of 
words  with  which  to  comfort  the  poor  mother, 
I  knelt  beside  her  and  besought  the  helping 


LITTLE  JOHNNY'S   DEATH.  115 

presence  of  the  Shepherd  who  had  just 
gathered  her  little  lamb  to  his  bosom.  When 
I  saw  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done,  and 
that  the  presence  of  a  stranger  was  rather  a 
restraint  than  a  help,  I  came  away.  I  wanted 
to  take  Mary  Jane  home  with  me,  but  she 
could  not  be  induced  to  leave  her  post  beside 
the  cradle,  where  she  sat  motionless,  gazing  at 
-the  baby-face  as  if  she  expected  it  to  smile 
back  upon  her  as  it  always  had  done  for 
the  patient,  loving  sister  until  the  last  sad 
hour. 

Euth  went  with  me  next  day  to  the  funeral. 
She  had  in  her  hand  a  parcel,  which  she 
opened  in  answer  to  my  inquiring  look.  It 
was  a  beautiful  bouquet  of  white  flowers, 
prettier  than  anything  I  should  have  expected 
to  find  in  Ferndale  at  that  season.  She  had 
employed  her  recess  in  running  to  the  gar- 
dener's, nearly  a  mile  distant,  and  had  ex- 
pended all  the  contents  of  her  little  purse, 
never  over-full,  in  this  expression  of  sympathy 
for  her  sorrowing  friends. 

"They  will  like  it,  don't  you  think  so, 
auntie  ?"  she  asked.  "  When  mamma  died,  I 
remember  going  into  the  garden  with  papa 
and  cutting  all  the  white  flowers  we  could 


116  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

find,  and  the  ladies  made  them  into  a  wreath 
and  laid  it  on  the  coffin.  That  was  so  sweet. 
I  could  not  find  any  flowers  like  those  at  the 
gardener's.  We  had  cape  jessamine  and 
heliotrope  and  camellias  in  the  garden  at 
home,  but  when  I  asked  for  them  this  morn- 
ing the  man  said  they  would  cost  a  good  deal 
more  money  than  I  would  like  to  spend  if  he 
had  them." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  the  flowers  that  grow  out 
of  doors  in  Africa  have  to  be  nursed  very 
tenderly  in  greenhouses  here  in  our  cold 
country.  You  would  not  think  much  of  this 
bouquet  out  there,  but  you  will  find  that  your 
gift  will  be  very  rare  and  valuable  in  the  eyes 
of  Mary  Jane  and  her  mother." 

It  was  a  quiet  funeral.  There  were  only 
two  or  three  neighbours,  moved  partly  by 
curiosity  and  partly  by  pity  for  the  afflicted 
strangers,  ourselves,  and  the  minister,  besides 
the  mother  and  sister,  to  see  Johnny  laid  in  his 
last  earthly  resting-place.  Mr.  Leonard — for 
it  was  he  who  had  been  summoned — almost 
broke  down  in  his  prayer.  The  memory  of 
similar  occasions  in  his  own  home  gave  a  ten- 
derness to  all  his  words,  and  enabled  him  to 
minister  consolation  in  a  manner  that  a  father 


LITTLE  JOHNNY'S   DEATH.  117 

with   all  his   children  spared   to   him   could 
hardly  have  done. 

"Mary  Jane  will  cry  all  the  time  about 
Johnnie,  she  loved  him  so,"  said  Kuth  as  we 
were  walking  homeward. 

"  I  think  instead  of  that  she  will  try  to  be 
cheerful,  so  as  to  comfort  her  mother,"  I 
replied. 

"  Mary  Jane  isn't  a  bit  selfish ;  I  wish  I  was 
like  her,"  Kuth  said,  humbly. 

'  "  You  ought  to  be  a  great  deal  better,"  I 
said,  "  because  you  have  been  taught  all  your 
life  what  a  Christian  child  should  be,  and  poor 
Mary  Jane  has  not;  but  I  can  see  that  my 
little  girl  is.  trying  hard  to  forget  herself  and 
do  good  to  others,  and  I  hope  that  in  due  time 
the  Lord  will  root  out  all  selfishness  from  her 
heart." 

Christmas  came,  and  with  it  a  short  letter 
from  Ruth's  cousin  Kate,  accompanied  by  a 
little  box  containing  a  ring  and  a  supply  of 
confectionery  besides.  A  book  from  Aunt 
Esther  and  a  pretty  needle-case  from  Mrs. 
Leonard — to  help  her  in  her  charitable  under- 
taking, the  good  lady  said — made  the  day  a 
very  pleasant  one  to  Ruth.  The  crowning  joy, 
however,  was  a  letter  from  papa.  Ruth  laughed 


118  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

and  cried  over  it  while  she  was  reading,  and 
ended  by  kissing  it  over  and  over  again  before 
she  gave  it  into  my  hands.  It  was  such  a  grand 
thing  to  get  a  letter  addressed  to  "  Miss  Kuth 
Allerton,"  just  as  if  she  had  been  a  grown  lady ; 
and  to  have  it  come  all  the  way  from  Africa 
too!  The  envelope  with  her  name  and  the 
foreign  post-mark  was  exhibited  with  no  small 
degree  of  pride,  first  to  Bridget,  who  vexed 
Ruth  somewhat  by  saying,  "Shure,  that  was 
no  great  things;  it  had  no  more  writing  and 
marks  than  her  own  letthers  that  came  from  ould 
Ireland,  from  her  brother  Tim;"  and  then  to 
her  friends  the  Kings,  who  were  properly  im- 
pressed with  her  importance,  and  owned  that 
they  never  in  their  lives  had  received  a  letter 
from  across  the  ocean.  Charlie  begged  for  the 
postage-stamp  to  put  in  his  collection,  and  even 
Miss '  Chester  took  an  interest  in  the  matter, 
and  asked  Ruth  what  news  there  was  about  the 
mission. 

Mr.  Allerton  wrote  that  his  journey  back 
had  been  tedious,  but  safe  thus  far.  He  had 
not  quite  reached  his  mission  home;  but  for 
fear  his  little  daughter  would  be  feeling  anxious 
about  him  he  had  taken  the  opportunity  afforded 
by  the  vessel's  first  stop  on  the  African  coast, 


LITTLE   JOHNNY'S   DEATH.  119 

namely,  at  Sierra  Leone,  where  they  anchored 
just  in  time  for  him  to  send  a  letter  back  by 
the  English  steamer.  "  We  had  a  pretty  curious 
welcome  last  night  in  the  form  of  a  tornado ; 
we  had  just  cast  anchor,  and  had  scarcely 
furled  the  sails,  when  it  came  upon  us,  putting 
captain  and  crew  in  some  consternation;  but 
the  gracious  Lord  preserved  us,  and  for  this 
and  all  his  mercy  I  want  my  little  daughter 
to  join  with  me  in  giving  him  thanks.  You 
were  never  at  Sierra  Leone,  dear,"  the  letter 
went  on,  "and  so  I  must  tell  you  something 
about  this  curious  town,  which  the  English  call 
the  London  of  West  Africa.  The  name  Sierra 
Leone,  or  as  the  natives  pronounce  it,  Sally 'one, 
means  the  lion  mountain,  because  it  has  the 
shape  of  a  crouching  lion.  The  natives  here 
do  not  use  a  distinct  language,  as  they  do  in 
other  places,  but  a  very  queer  sort  of  English, 
about  as  hard  for  us  to  understand  as  if  it  were 
no  relation  at  all  to  our  mother  tongue.  I  have 
been  kindly  entertained  by  the  English  mis- 
sionaries here,  and  feel  strengthened  by  the 
sight  of  their  success  to  work  harder  than  ever 
in  our  own  appointed  fields.  To-morrow  we 
are  to  take  a  fresh  start.  The  captain  intends 
to  stop  for  a  few  hours  at  Monrovia,  where  you 


120  EUTH  ALLEETON. 

once  went  with  your  dear  mother  and  me,  and 
in  a  few  days  from  that  time  I  shall  be,  if  the 
Lord  permit,  in  our  mission  home.  All  the 
little  folks  in  school  will  want  to  hear  about 
Miss  Euth,  and  I  shall  have  plenty  of  talking 
to  do  for  myself  and  you."  The  letter  con- 
cluded with  messages  to  Aunt  Phebe,  and 
earnest  counsel  to  the  dear  little  daughter  to 
be  careful  and  watchful  in  all  things,  that  her 
father's  heart  might  be  rejoiced  by  knowing 
that  his  prayers  for  her  were  fully  answered. 


CHAPTEB    XI. 

RUTH'S  FIRST  SLEIGH-RIDE. 

H,  Aunt  Phebe,  what  funny  carriages ! 
Do  come  and  see!" 

Buth  had  been  standing  at  the  win- 
dow for  nearly  half  an  hour  watching 
the  steady  falling  of  the  snow,  the  first 
storm  of  the'  winter,  although  it  was  the  very 
last  of  December,  and  the  first  that  this  African- 
born  girl  had  seen  in  her  life.  "  How  pretty 
and  soft  they  are !"  she  said,  and  before  I  knew 
her  intention,  she  had  run  to'  the  door  and 
caught  several  flakes  on  her  hand.  Closing 
her  fingers  on  the  new  treasures,  she  came  in 
and  approached  me,  making  a  .motion  to  lay 
the  snow-flakes  on  my  lap. 

" There!  I  have  dropped  them!"  she  said, 
with  a  look  of  astonishment  at  the  emptiness 
of  her  extended  hand.  I  explained  to  her  as 
simply  as  I  could  the  nature  of  snow,  which  to 
her  seemed  still  as  marvellous  as  a  miracle : 
and  so  it  is ;  but  we,  to  whom  it  is  a  common 

11  121 


122  EUTH  ALLEETON. 

thing,  so  often  repeated  as  to  lose  all  strange- 
ness in  our  eyes,  fail  to  recognize  in  these  tiny- 
crystals  the  wonderful  working  of  our  Father's 
hand. 

"Do  you  remember  a  verse  in  the  Bible 
about  snow,  Euth  ?" 

She  did  not,  so  I  asked  her  to  find  and  read 
the  147th  Psalm,  16th  and  17th  verses. 

"Why,  I  believe  everything  is  spoken  of  in 
the  Bible,  auntie.  I  must  have  read  that  be- 
fore, but  I  never  thought  of  it." 

"  You  will  find  that  true  more  and  more  as 
long  as  you  live,"  I  said ;  "there  are  words  in 
the  Bible  for  every  person  and  every  occasion, 
but  we  are  not  apt  to  think  much  about  them, 
until  our  own  experience  brings  out  their  full 
meaning." 

"There!  there  goes  another;  do  come  and 
see."  Buth  darted  back  to  her  old  place  at 
the  window  as  a  handsome  sleigh  glided 
swiftly  by.  Then  I  told  her  that  the  differ- 
ence between  these  and  the  carriages  she  was 
familiar  with  was  that,  while  the  latter  went  on 
wheels,  the  former  were  placed  on  runners,  so 
as  to  slip  easily  through  the  snow. 

"  All  the  horses  wear  bells,  too !  What  is 
that  for?" 


ruth's  first  sleigh-ride.         123 

"  Because  the  sleighs  make  no  noise  in  the 
snow,  and  when  there  are  many  on  the  road, 
or  at  night,  when  people  cannot  see  far  off,  they 
would,  if  it  were  not  for  the  bells,  run  against 
each  other,  and  injury  would  be  done." 

"America  is  a  queer  place!"  said  Euth,  as 
if  that  was  the  summing  up  of  the  matter. 

The  next  day  was  bright  and  cold,  and  the 
snow  just  deep  enough  to  afford  excellent 
sleighing.  It  was  Saturday,  so  that  Euth  had 
no  school  duties  to  hinder  her  full  enjoyment 
of  the  novel  plaything  out  of  doors.  She 
coaxed  so  hard  that  I  muffled  her  up  well,  and 
let  her  run  out  in  the  garden,  where  she  built 
snow  houses  and  heaped  up  hills  and  tossed 
balls  of  the  "pretty  stuff,"  as  she  called  it,  to 
her  heart's  content,  only  leaving  her  sport  long 
enough  to  run  in  every  now  and  then  to  warm 
her  hands  at  the  kitchen  fire. 

"You're  crazy,  shure,  Miss  Euth,"  said 
Bridget,  who  did  not  like  the  tracks  made  on 
her  kitchen  floor  by  the  little  girl's  feet.  "  Do 
you  mane  to  say,  now,  that  in  that  haythen 
place  ye  come  from  they  have  no  snow  ?" 

"No,  Bridget,  it  is  too  warm  there  to  freeze 
the  rain  and  form  crystals,"  said  Euth,  with 
her  old  way  of  showing  off  her  knowledge. 


124  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

She  had  caught  these  words  in  my  explanation 
the  day  before,  and  thought  they  would  im- 
press Bridget  with  a  sense  of  her  superior 
learning,  which  they  certainly  did. 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Leonard  and  his  wife 
came  to  take  us  out  for  a  sleigh-ride.  Ruth 
was  delighted,  and  amused  us  older  folks  all 
the  way  with  her  remarks  about  everything 
we  passed. 

"It  is  better  than  hammock  riding/'  she 
said. 

"Ah!  is  that  the  way  you  used  to  travel, 
little  African?"  Mr.  Leonard  asked,  thus 
opening  the  way  for  the  chatterbox  to  describe 
the-  hammock  her  father  had  had  made  for  her 
special  use,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  bearers 
used  to  lift  the  pole  so  that  it  rested  on  their 
woolly  heads,  and  then  trotting  off  with  her 
along  the  beach,  while  the  surf  would  come 
dashing  up  and  wash  their  bare  feet. 

"And  how  comes  on  the  work  that  you 
planned  at  Thanksgiving-time?"  Mrs.  Leonard 
inquired. 

Ruth  glanced  up  at  me,  as  if  she  wanted  me 
to  answer  for  her,  but  I  told  her  to  answer  for 
herself. 

"It   does   not  come   on  very  well,  ma'am. 


ruth's  first  sleigh-ride.         125 

Auntie's  sheets  are  dreadfully  wide,  and  it 
takes  a  long  time  to  hem  one  side.  Then, 
sometimes  things  go  wrong  with  the  thread 
and  needle,  or — " 

"Or  somebody  gets  tired  and  says,  'Can't 
I  stop  ?'  and,  '  Won't  that  do  for  this  time,  Aunt 
Phebe?'     Is  not  that  the  way?"  I  asked. 

"I  really  mean  to  do  better,  indeed  I  do, 
Mr.  Leonard,"  said  poor  Euth.  "You  see  if  I 
don't  work  hard  next  week,  auntie.  I  have  had 
so  many  interruptions  lately,  you  know." 

I  remembered  that  the  interruptions  were 
mostly  of  Ruth's  own  making,  but  I  did  not 
say  so. 

"When  I  was  a  little  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Leo- 
nard, "I  was  very  much  troubled  with  things 
going  wrong.  Every  time  I  made  a  resolution 
to  get  up  early  in  the  morning  and  study  (for 
I  was  a  lazy  child)  something  would  happen 
to  prevent  it.  If  my  mother  sent  me  to  do  an 
errand  for  her,  something  or  somebody  always 
met  me  on  the  way  and  hindered  me.  It  was 
not  my  fault,  of  course,"  he  continued,  glancing 
at  Ruth  with  an  expression  that  she  interpreted 
as  "making  fun"  of  her.  "Once  my  teacher 
entrusted  me  with  a  message  that  I  was  to 
stop  and  deliver  to  a  neighbour  on  my  way 
11  * 


126  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

from  school.  It  was  of  great  importance  that 
this  message  should  be  given  that  very  after- 
noon, and  the  teacher  had  intended  to  go  in 
person,  but  it  was  a  good  deal  out  of  his  way, 
and  a  stormy  day  besides,  and  as  I  promised 
faithfully  to  obey  his  instructions  to  the  letter, 
he  trusted  me.  Something  happened,  I  don't 
remember  just  what;  perhaps  I  met  a  school- 
mate and  got  talking  about  some  matter  more 
interesting  to  a  boy's  mind  than  the  teacher's 
message.  At  any  rate,  I  never  thought  of  my 
promise  till  I  went  into  school  next  day.   '  What 

answer  did  Mr. send  me?'  inquired  my 

kind  schoolmaster,  meeting  me  at  the  door 
with  much  anxiety  in  his  face.  I  had  to  own 
that  I  had  not  been  to  the  house  at  all ;  '  But, 
sir,  if  you  please,  I  will  run  back  this  minute 

and  see  Mr.  .'     '  It  is  too  late,'  he  said, 

very  soberly,  '  and,  my  boy,  your  carelessness 
has  caused  trouble  that  may  affect  me  as  long 
as  I  live.'  I  stammered  out,  'Something  hin- 
dered me,  sir,  but  indeed  I  will  do  better 
another  time,  if  you  will  overlook  this;'  for  I 
was  ready  enough  at  promising.  He  turned 
away  with  a  very  sad  face,  and  did  not  answer 
a  word.  Next  day  he  laid  on  my  desk  a  book 
with  a  leaf  turned  down.    I  opened  it,  and  read 


ruth's  first  sleigh-ride.         127 

a  little  story  which  I  never  have  forgotten. 
Do  you  want  to  hear  it,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Yes,  please,"  Euth  answered. 

"It  was  during  those  troublous  times  in 
Scottish  history  when  the  poor  Covenanters 
were  hunted  from  place  to  place,  and  found  no 
rest  for  either  body  or  mind,  that  a  sudden 
alarm  was  sounded,  and  the  news  that  Crom- 
well's army  was  approaching  struck  terror  into 
every  heart.  A  messenger  was  despatched 
from  a  farm-house  where  the  terrible  tidings 
had  been  received  to  a  neighbouring  hamlet 
to  bid  them  prepare  for  the  enemy's  coming. 
'Fly,  ffyj  and  lose  not  a  moment!'  was  the 
warning  that  fell  on  the  ears  of  the  lad  as  he 
started  at  full  speed  on  his  errand.  When 
about  half  the  distance  had  been  traversed  he 
slackened  his  pace,  and  the  first  impression  of 
terror  calmed  down.  He  began  to  wonder  if 
it  were  not,  after  all,  a  false  report.  The  night 
was  still  and  clear,  and  all  nature  so  peaceful, 
how  could  danger  be  near  at  hand  ?  While 
these  thoughts  were  passing  through  his  mind, 
he  heard  the  whistle  of  a  comrade  close  behind 
him,  and  paused  a  moment  for  him  to  come  on. 
'Have  you  heard?'  he  cried  to  his  friend. 
'Heard  what?'  the  other  asked.     'Cromwell's 


128  RUTH   ALLEETON. 

men  are  close  upon  us,  and  I  am  sent  to  take 
the  news  to  yonder  hamlet;  I  must  hurry  on.' 
1  It  is  a  fool's  errand/  said  the  other ;  '  the 
enemy  is  many  a  mile  distant  this  night ;  let 
us  take  it  leisurely !'  So  the  two  lads  saun- 
tered along,  laughing  at  the  cowardly  fears  of 
the  people,  and  then  talking  of  other  things 
mere  interesting  to  young- heads,  and  the  one 
who  was  sent  with  the  message  and  bidden  to 
fly  for  the  safety  of  the  hamlet  had  wellnigh 
forgotten  the  errand  he  came  upon.  Suddenly 
a  noise  like  thunder  burst  upon  them,  and  the 
gleam  of  armour  shone  out  in  the  moonlight. 
The  terror-stricken  youths  had  not  time  so 
much  as  to  say  to  one  another,  'It  is  true.' 
They  were  bound  as  prisoners,  and  not  only  so, 
but  compelled  to  act  as  guides  to  the  very  ham- 
let they  should  have  preserved.  The  pitiless 
army  plundered  and  murdered  and  laid  waste 
that  peaceful  spot  that  an  hour  before  had  been 
the  beloved  home  of  many  a  true-hearted 
Highlander,  and  when  all  else  that  bitter 
cruelty  could  suggest  was  done,  they  set  fire 
to  every  dwelling  and  left  the  hamlet  a  heap 
of  smouldering  ashes.  The  two  lads  were 
horrified  spectators  of  the  ruin  wrought  by 
their  thoughtlessness.    One — he  who  had  been 


ruth's  first  sleigh-ride.         129 

sent  to  save  the  place — snatched  a  sword  from 
one  of  the  soldiers,  and  in  a  frenzy  of  despair 
plunged  it  in  his  breast ;  the  other,  on  behold- 
ing his  friend's  fate,  lost  his  reason,  and  was 
carried  away  by  the  army,  imprisoned  indeed, 
but  no  longer  conscious  of  good  or  evil  fortune. 

"  That  was  the  result  of  allowing  one's  self 
to  be  hindered,  Kuth, — of  neglecting  duty  with- 
out  meaning  any  harm.  The  story  is  an  ex- 
treme case,  my  child,  and  don't  apply  very 
closely*  to  your  negligence  about  the  sewing," 
added  Mr.  Leonard,  seeing  that  Ruth  was 
deeply  affected  by  his  narrative.  "  Now,  if  you 
should  not  hem  a  single  one  of  Aunt  Phebe's 
towels,  and  so  forfeit  all  the  money  you  expect 
to  send  to  the  'Little  Wanderers,'  nobody 
would  lose  his  life  in  consequence.  So  cheer 
up,  African  lily,"  he  said,  resuming  his  usual 
cheery  tone.  "Only,  when  you  are  tempted 
to  any  neglect  of  duty,  remember  the  two  stories 
you  have  heard  this  afternoon." 

We  were  dancing  over  the  snow  at  a  merry 
rate,  the  air  was  invigorating,  and  the  beauti- 
ful tints  of  approaching  sunset  in  the  sky  above 
were  making  a  glorious  contrast  to  the  pure 
white  surface  below.  But  the  little  girl's  eyes 
were  too  dim  to  take  in  the  splendour  around 
I 


130  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

her,  and  the  charm  of  the  sleigh-ride  had 
vanished.  In  vain  the  good  minister  tried  to 
call  back  her  smiles  by  pointing  out  and  de- 
scribing different  buildings  that  we  passed 
and  telling  one  or  two  of  his  drollest  anecdotes. 
Kuth's  vanity  and  conscience  were  both  touched. 
She  did  not  like  the  good  old  minister  whom  she 
looked  upon  with  reverence  to  see  what  a  faulty 
little  girl  she  was,  and  tell  her  so  plainly  of  her 
shortcomings.  Sermons  in  church  she  did  not 
so  much  mind,  because  they  meant  everybody 
else  as  much  as  herself.  Still,  she  knew  her 
charity  was  less  perfect  than  she  wished  it  to 
appear,  and  she  thought  with  shame  that  her 
dear  father  would  not  think  his  prayers  for  her 
were  very  fully  answered  yet  if  he  could  look 
right  in  her  heart.  But  she  would  begin  at 
once  to  do  better.  To-morrow  would  be  Sun- 
day, and  the  hymns  and  prayers  would  help 
her  in  making  good  resolutions.  She  would 
do  wonders  all  that  coming  week  at  her  sew- 
ing, so  that  Mr.  Leonard  might  hear  of  her 
improvement,  and  in  school — well,  she  would 
study  hard,  and  do  her  best  in  remembering 
the  text  Miss  Chester  had  marked  for  her. 
She  prayed  with  much  humility,  "Lead  us  not 
into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  CHAMELEON. 

UTH'S  good  resolutions  were  not  with- 
out fruit.  It  was  pleasant  to  see  how 
perseveringly  she  stitched  away  at  the 
sheets  and  towels  day  after  day  with- 
out a  word  about  her  weariness  or  her 
interruptions.  These  last  did  occur  sometimes, 
however,  in  very  tempting  forms :  Alice  or  Kitty 
would  come  to  beg  her  company  for  a  walk  at 
the  very  hour  which  she  had  set  apart  for  her 
work,  or  Charlie  would  tease  her  just  for  one 
game  of  backgammon — a  favourite  pastime  with 
them  both — or  she  would  be  deeply  interested 
in  a  story-book  and  dislike  to  lay  it  down.  She 
fought  the  temptations  very  bravely,  how- 
ever, and  by  and  by  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  an  old  purse  that  she  had  seriously  dedi- 
cated to  benevolent  uses  quite  stout,  with  its 
contents  of  five  and  ten  and  twenty-five  cent 
stamps.     When  all  the   sewing  was   finished 

131 


132  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

which  I  had  for  her  to  do,  she  remembered  Mr. 
Leonard's  suggestion,  and  went  to  inquire  if 
Mrs.  Leonard  would  trust  her  with  some  plain 
sewing. 

"That  is  just  what  I  want,"  said  the  kind 
old  lady.  "  Here  are  a  dozen  handkerchiefs 
to  be  hemmed  and  marked  for  Mr.  Leonard. 
My  eyes  are  growing  so  poor  that  I  cannot  see 
to  take  fine  stitches,  and  when  you  finish  these 
I  may  have  something  more  ready  for  your 
nimble  fingers." 

So  it  came  to  be  a  settled  matter  that  one 
hour  of  each  day  should  be  Ruth's  free-will 
offering  to  the  Lord,  in  the  form  of  labour  for 
his  needy  ones.  Years  afterwards,  when  the 
principle  of  self-denial  for  the  sake  of  others 
had  become  the  ruling  power  in  her  heart,  and 
her  whole  time  was  devoted  to  deeds  of  love, 
she  wrote  to  me : 

"  I  look  back  upon  the  daily  hour  spent  in 
sewing  for  the  '  Little  Wanderers  '  during  my 
first  winter  at  Ferndale  as  a  sort  of  primer 
out  of  which  I  learned  the  A  B  C  of  charity." 

Ruth  made  rapid  progress  in  her  studies 
after  the  first  difficulty  of  reciting  every  lesson 
in  English  wore  off,  but  the  influences  of  her 
school  life  were  not  altogether  such  as  I  wished. 


THE   CHAMELEON.  133 

My  heart  was  often  pained  by  expressions 
from  her  lips  so  worldly,  so  self-satisfied,  so 
shallow-hearted,  that  I  wondered  if  they  really 
sprang  from  the  child's  own  feelings,  or  if  they 
were  mere  repetitions,  parrot  fashion,  of  what 
she  heard  others  say.  One  day  I  spoke  to  Miss 
Chester  of  my  fears  that,  after  all,  my  little 
niece  was  developing  into  a  worldly-minded 
woman,  self-seeking  and  frivolous. 

"Do  not  judge  poor  Ruth  too  harshly,  Miss 
Martin,"  said  the  affectionate  teacher.  "  The 
failings  you  speak  of  are  only  on  the  surface, 
I  am  sure.  Ruth  is  very  like  a  chameleon,  and 
takes  a  colouring  from  those  she  associates  with. 
I  sometimes  fancy  I  can  tell  which  of  her  school- 
mates she  has  been  talking  with  at  recess  from 
her  behaviour  during  the  remainder  of  school 
hours." 

Miss  Chester  was  correct,  and  a  closer  ob- 
servation of  the  little  girl's  ways  made  me 
think  her  very  like  a  pendulum,  swinging  back 
and  forth  between  good  and  evil,  without  power 
enough  to  rest  permanently  on  one  side  or  the 
other.  The  ill-feeling  between  Clara  Gilbert 
and  herself  gradually  faded  away,  and  a  sort 
of  intimacy  sprang  up  instead,  which  I  sin- 
cerely regretted.     Ruth  began  arranging  her 

12 


134  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

hair  in  a  new  style,  and  when  I  begged  her  to 
put  it  again  in  the  simple  fashion  in  which  she 
had  been  wearing  it,  she  said : 

"Oh,  auntie,  Clara  and  Sue  say  that  it  is 
dreadfully  unbecoming,  and  that  this  is  the 
way  that  their  friend  Miss  Owen  wears  hers, 
and  she  is,  they  say,  as  good  as  a  fashion-plate 
to  copy  from." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  it  would  please  your 
father,  wearing  out  his  life  in  trying  to  save 
the  souls  of  the  heathen  Africans,  or  your  dear 
mother  in  heaven,  to  know  that  you  were  styl- 
ish— even  that  you  were,  as  you  say  of  Miss 
Owen,  as  good  as  a  fashion-plate?" 

"  Oh  no,  Aunt  Phebe,  you  know  I  am  not 
trying  to  be  that  at  all.  If  you  don't  like  my 
hair  this  way,  I'll  go  up  stairs  and  change  it 
at  once ;"  and  she  ran  off  to  her  room  in  the 
utmost  good-humour. 

Miss  Chester  is  right,  I  thought;  the  evil 
has  not  become  deeply  rooted  in  her  nature  yet. 

Alice  King  would  often  bring  her  work-bas- 
ket in  and  sit  for  an  hour  or  two  with  Euth. 
I  was  surprised  at  her  fancy  for  Ruth's  society, 
as  she  was  several  years  older,  and  her  quiet, 
womanly  manners  made  her  seem  even  older 
than  she  was.     I  used,  on  such  occasions,  to 


THE   CHAMELEON.  135 

leave  them  alone  together  to  have  their  little 
talks  undisturbed,  for  I  am  pretty  sure  that 
children  feel  sometimes  as  their  older  friends 
act.  The  grown  people,  when  they  want  to 
have  any  private  conversation,  send  the  little 
folks  out  of  the  room ;  the  children  cannot  say 
to  grandmamma  or  uncle,  "  Now,  run  out  and 
play  a  little  while ;  we  don't  want  you  in  here," 
but  I  fear  they  sometimes  wish  in  their  hearts 
they  could.  Euth's  confidence  in  me,  however, 
was  unlimited,  and  I  was  sure  to  hear  from  the 
open-hearted  child  anything  in  her  conversa- 
tions with  her  young  friends  that  she  consid- 
ered interesting  enough  to  repeat.  She  would 
often  say,  after  spending  an  afternoon  with 
Alice : 

"  I  never  saw  any  girl  so  good  as  Alice 
King.  I  am  sure  she  will  do  something  won- 
derful when  she  grows  to  be  a  woman." 

"  If  I  were  as  good  a  Christian  as  Alice  is," 
she  said  one  day,  "  I  would  stop  trying  to  grow 
better.  She  is  as  good  as  anybody  could  ex- 
pect a  girl  to  be ;  and  if  she  goes  on  in  this 
way,  it  will  discourage  the  other  girls." 

"  Then  I  am  very  glad  you  are  not  as  good," 
I  said,  much  to  Euth's  surprise.  "When  a 
Christian  is  good  enough,  in  his  own  opinion,  to 


136  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

stop  trying  to  become  better,  lie  is  a  very  poor 
Christian  indeed." 

"But  Alice  does  not  think  so,  auntie;  she 
said  to  me  once  that  if  I  only  knew  how  wicked 
she  was,  I  would  despise  her.  When  Miss  Ches- 
ter praises  her  sometimes,  it  seems  to  make  her 
feel  unhappy,  for  she  says  it  is  all  a  mistake, 
and  Miss  Chester  does  not  understand  her." 

"  You  and  Alice  are  not  much  alike  in  that 
respect,  my  dear,"  said  I,  "  for  you  enjoy  being 
praised  almost  too  well." 

Kitty  and  Charlie  were  as  much  with  Euth 
as  Alice  was,  but  Charlie  being  a  boy,  and 
merry  little  Kitty,  though  really  very  near 
Ruth's  age,  so  much  younger  in  character  than 
my  sage,  old-fashioned  niece,  did  not  exert  any 
marked  influence  over  her,  as  did  Alice  and 
Clara.  These  two  girls,  so  opposite  in  charac- 
ter, were  the  two  points  between  which  my 
pendulum  swung.  Anxiously  I  watched  the 
impressions  made  by  these  opposite  characters 
who  were  unconscious  representatives  of  the 
good  and  evil  at  work  within. 

Early  the  next  summer  the  "  Cousin  Kate  " 
who  had  helped  array  Ruth  for  her  first  party, 
and  had  sent  her  the  presents  at  Christmas, 
came  to  spend  a  week  with  us  at  Ferndale. 


THE   CHAMELEON.  137 

Her  mother  had  gone  to  Newport,  but  Miss 
Kate  had  found  it  so  dull  there  the  previous 
season  that  she  had  begged  that,  instead  of  a 
tedious  visit  to  the  famous  resort,  she  might 
divide  her  time  among  two  or  three  friends, 
all  living  in  quiet  country  places. 

"  How  you  grow,  child !"  was  her  first  remark 
to  Kuth.  We  had  gone  to  the  depot  to  meet 
her  the  afternoon  she  arrived.  "Why,  cousin, 
you  will  be  a  young  lady  almost  as  soon  as  I, 
if  you  grow  so  fast.  Ma  says  I  am  to  come 
out  this  winter;  don't  you  wish  you  were  in 
my  place?" 

"Come  out!"  repeated  Ruth,  with  a  per- 
plexed look ;  "  out  where  ?" 

"  Into  society,  you  goose !  I  am  not  going 
to  school  after  this.  Ma  insists  on  my  keeping 
up  my  French  lessons  with  Mr.  Jacques,  and 
practicing  an  hour  or  two  every  day,  but  that 
will  not  take  up  much  time.  I  shall  make  calls 
with  ma,  and  go  to  the  opera,  and  all  that. 
Won't  it  be  splendid?" 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  so,"  said  Ruth,  enter- 
ing warmly  into  her  cousin's  anticipations.  "  I 
wonder  if  I  ever  shall  'come  out'?" 

"Of  course;  ma  says  you  are  not  to  spend 
your  life  cooped  up  here  in  Ferndale  like — " 

12* 


138  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

Here  Miss  Kate  bit  her  lip  and  looked  discon- 
certed. She  had  quite  forgotten  that  Ruth's 
aunt  was  also  listeningf  and  might  not  relish 
the  uncomplimentary  allusion  to  Ferndale. 

Our  young  guest  proved  lively  and  amiable, 
and  I  was  glad  to  see  how  thoroughly  Ruth 
enjoyed  her  visit.  "We  had  pleasant  drives 
about  the  country,  and  one  evening  I  invited 
all  the  young  people  in  our  neighbourhood  to 
the  house, — the  first  attempt  I  had  made  at 
having  anything  like  a  party  for  many  years. 

"  I  haven't  a  thing  to  wear,"  said  Kate,  quite 
mournfully.  "  I  did  not  expect  to  have  any  oc- 
casion for  an  evening-dress  out  in  the  country." 

"  That  pretty  muslin  you  wore  on  Sunday 
would  look  very  suitable,"  I  suggested. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Martin,  I  should  be  ashamed  to 
be  seen  with  that  on.  But  I  know  what  I'll 
do,"  she  continued,  after  a  moment's  thought; 
"  I'll  fix  that  light  silk  of  mine  like  one  I'saw 
the  other  day  at  Madame  L 's,  ma's  dress- 
maker, you  know,  Ruth.  That  will  do  finely. 
What  shall  you  wear  ?  I  suppose  that  dress 
ma  got  for  you  last  fall  is  not  worn  out  yet  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Ruth,  "  I  have  never  had  it  on 
since  I  was  in  New  York ;  may  I  wear  that, 
Aunt  Phebe?" 


THE   CHAMELEON.  139 

"It  is  far  too  dressy  for  such  a  little  girl  to 
wear  in  a  quiet  place  like  this,"  I  answered. 
"You  know,"  I  said,  turning  to  Kate,  "that 
what  looks  suitable  in  a  large  city  would  be 
very  showy  in  a  country  village.  Bridget  shall 
do  up  your  white  muslin  to-morrow,  and  you 
will  look  very  nice  indeed,  my  dear  Euth." 

The  child's  countenance  fell,  but  she  did  not 
reply.  When  the  day  of  the  party  arrived,  I 
was  too  busy  in  preparing  refreshments,  and 
seeing  that  all  things  were  in  order  for  the 
evening,  to  look  after  the  young  people,  but  I 
knew  they  were  quite  able  to  amuse  them- 
selves, and  was  assured  that  they  needed  no 
help  of  mine  by  the  peals  of  laughter  ever  and 
anon  proceeding  from  Ruth's  room.  When  it 
was  time  to  prepare  for  the  evening,  I  took 
Ruth's  white  dress,  which  I  had  ironed  myself 
for  fear  Bridget  would  not  do  it  carefully 
enough,  and  laid  it  on  her  bed,  with  all  the 
other  articles  she  was  to  put  on. 

"  Shall  you  want  me  to  stay  and  help  you, 
dear?"  I  asked. 

"No,  thank  you,  auntie;  Cousin  Kate  will 
be  here  to  call  upon,  and  I  really  do  not  need 
help,"  Ruth  answered. 

"Children,  are  you  not  ready  yet?"  I  called 


140  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

from  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  an  hour  later.     "  I 
hear  some  of  the  company  at  the  gate." 

"  We  will  be  down  in  just  a  few  minutes/' 
was  the  answer,  in  Kate's  voice. 

A  number  of  guests  arrived,  and  still  the 
door-bell  kept  ringing,  yet  the  girls  had  not 
come  down  stairs.  I  was  on  the  point  of  send- 
ing Mary  Jane,  who  was  in  attendance  on  the 
occasion,  up  to  inquire  why  they  were  so  late, 
when  they  entered  the  room.  Can  it  be,  or  do 
my  eyes  deceive  me  ?  I  asked  myself,  as  I  per- 
ceived Euth  standing  just  behind  her  cousin, 
busily  talking  to  a  little  girl.  I  was  much 
shocked  when  a  second  glance  proved  to  me 
that  the  little  girl  with  curled  hair  and  fancy 
silk  dress  was  Euth  Allerton.  Kate  was  fool- 
ishly overdressed,  and  was  putting  on  airs  and 
attitudes  such  as  she  had  probably  seen  among 
her  mother's  friends  in  New  York,  with  a  view, 
I  suppose,  of  making  an  impression  on  the  boys 
and  girls  of  quiet  Perndale.  I  felt  ashamed" 
of  her,  and  annoyed  at  having  the  vain  girl 
introduced  as  my  guest.  Yet  Kate's  appear- 
ance and  actions  troubled  me  far  less  than  the 
vanity  and  wilful  disobedience  of  my  Euth.  I 
felt  inclined  to  send  her  up  stairs  again  to  take 
off  the  gaudy  dress,  and  put  on  the  one  I  had 


Kutf)  SUiTton. 


\V>><  '^'^V'>''' 


Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  her  airs!"       p.  141. 


THE   CHAMELEON.  141 

prepared  for  her.  Mrs.  King  had  come  with 
her  children,  and  was  sitting  beside  me  when 
Ruth  entered.  She  read  my  annoyance  in  my 
face,  and  I  explained  to  her  how  it  was,  and 
asked  what  she  would  advise  me  to  do. 

"  Do  not  take  any  notice  of  the  matter  this 
evening,"  she  urged.  "  To  send  her  away  now 
to  make  the  change  would  mortify  the  child 
and  arouse  angry  feelings.  If  you  wait  till 
the  excitement  has  passed  off,  and  conscience 
has  time  to  do  its  work,  and  then  quietly  talk 
to  her,  it  will  be  better.  At  least  so  I  should 
deal  with  either  of  my  girls  in  such  a  case." 

I  saw  the  wisdom  of  my  friend's  counsel,  and 
did  not  allude  to  her  dress  at  all  whenever  I 
spoke  to  Ruth  that  evening.  She  seemed  to 
avoid  me,  however,  and  several  times  moved  to 
another  part  of  the  room  when  I  seemed  com- 
ing towards  her.  Clara  and  Sue  Gilbert  were 
there,  and  Ruth  evidently  enjoyed  introducing 
her  city  cousin  to  them.  I  happened  to  be 
tvery  near  these  two  girls  for  a  moment  while 
(the  refreshments  were  being  passed,  and  over- 
heard a  remark  which  Clara  made  to  her  sister : 
"  That  little  Ruth  Allerton  feels  proud  enough 
to-night;  did  you  ever  see  anything  like  her 
airs?     I  suppose  that  is  some  of  her  grand 


142  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

cousin's  cast-off  finery  she-  is  dressed  up  in, 
don't  you  2"  at  which  both  the  girls  giggled. 
If  Euth  only  knew  how  her  appearance  was 
regarded  by  those  she  wishes  to  make  an  im- 
pression upon,  she  would  not  enjoy  the  evening 
very  much,  I  thought. 

The  hours  passed  on,  and  finally  the  last 
guest  departed. 

"  Have  you  had  a  pleasant  time  ?"  I  asked 
the  two  girls  as  I  lighted  them  to  their  room. 

"  Very  pleasant,  Miss  Martin.  It  was  almost 
as  good  as  the  sociables  we  had  at  home  last 
winter,"  Kate  replied.  Euth  said  nothing.  She 
hurried  up  the  stairs  and  passed  into  her  room 
without  offering  me  the  usual  good-night  kiss. 
Poor  child  !  already  she  was  suffering  for  her 
act  of  disobedience.  The  pleasure  was  dearly 
bought. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  COST  OF  RUTH'S  SILK  DRESS.  I 

ISS  KATE  and  I  breakfasted  alone 
the  following  morning. 
^h)  "  Ruth  is  quite  tired  out,"  said  her 
cousin,  "and  complains  of  a  violent 
headache.  She  is  not  used  to  sitting 
up  late,  I  fancy.  It  does  not  affect  me  at  all, 
but  then  that  is  very  different,  for  I  always 
sit  up  when  my  mother  has  company,  and 
sometimes  I  go  to  small  parties,  though  I  am 
not  considered  out  yet." 

"  It  is,  as  you  say,  very  different  with  you," 
I  answered,  quite  coldly,  for  I  held  this  frivo- 
lous girl  as  chiefly  accountable  for  Ruth's  act 
of  disobedience  the  previous  day.  "  Your 
cousin  is  not  likely  ever  to  enter  society,  as  you 
expect  to  do.  Her  father  is  a  missionary,  and 
his  desire  for  his  daughter's  future  is,  not  that 
she  should  be  a  fashionable  lady,  but  a  humble, 
devoted  Christian,  as  her  mother  was  before 
her." 

143 


144  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

"  Oh,  we  are  all  Christians,  as  to  that,  I  sup- 
pose," answered  Kate,  flushing.  "We  live  in  a 
Christian  land,  and  attend  to  all  our  religious 
duties.  I  hope,  Miss  Martin,  you  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  fashionable  people  can't  be  Chris- 
tians?" 

"  I  mean  this,  my  dear  young  lady,"  I  re- 
plied :  "  our  Saviour  has  plainly  said, '  No  man 
can  serve  two  masters,'  and  again,  '  Love  not 
the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the 
world,'  and  yet  again  it  is  written,  '  Be  not 
conformed  to  this  world ;  but  be  ye  transformed 
by  the  renewing  of  your  mind.'  These  words, 
and  a  great  many  more  like  them,  prove  to  me 
that  while  we  live,  as  you  say,  in  a  Christian 
land,  and  attend,  because  it  is  customary  and 
fashionable,  to  all  the  outward  duties  of  religion, 
there  is  something  a  great  deal  deeper  and  more 
thorough  implied  when  we  use  the  expression, 
'  She  is  a  Christian.'  I  do  not  want  to  offend 
you,"  I  said.  "You  sought  my  opinion,  and  I 
have  given  it  plainly.  Fashionable  and  Chris- 
tian are,  in  my  understanding  of  the  words,  very 
far  from  synonymous  terms.  It  is  my  aim  to 
bring  up  my  niece  to  regard  them  as  distinct, 
and  impossible  to  be  united  in  one  character. 
You  perceive  now  why  her  dress  last  evening, 


THE    COST  OF   RUTH'S   SILK   DRESS.      145 

to  say  nothing  of  the  disobedience  connected 
with  it,  caused  me  much  pain." 

"  But,"  said  my  guest,  evidently  more  vexed 
by  the  plain  speech  I  had  just  made  than  she 
wished  me  to  see,  "  I  don't  see  how  you  could 
think  it  right  to  invite  company  to  your  house 
if  you  believe  it  wrong  to  dress  in  proper  style 
to  receive  them." 

This  speech  was  utteped  rather  pertly,  con- 
sidering that  Kate  was  a  girl  in  her  teens,  and 
I  a  woman  of  middle  age. 

"  We  probably  would  not  agree  as  to  what 
was  '  proper  style,'  "  I  said.  "  As  to  inviting 
company,  I  not  only  do  not  think  it  wrong, 
but  I  regard  it  as  a  positive  duty  to  meet 
together  in  a  social  way,  and  cultivate  kindly 
feelings  towards  one  another.  People  abuse 
this  as  they  do  every  other  privilege,  and 
foolish  dress,  vain  amusements,  late  hours,  and 
all  kinds  of  dissipation,  grow  out  of  this  very 
innocent  custom." 

"I  don't  understand  the  difference,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Kate,  with  an  ill-suppressed  yawn, 
"but  then  I  can't  expect  to,  seeing,  according 
to  your  views,  I  am  no  Christian." 

I  made  no  answer,  and  the  conversation 
ceased.     After  prayers  Miss  Kate  sauntered 

13  K 


146  BUTH   ALLERTON. 

out  in  the  garden,  and  I  went  up  to  see  my 
poor  little  Ruth.  She  was  indeed  suffering 
with  a  severe  headache,  and  was  very  feverish, 
as  indeed  she  always  was  if  over-weary  even : 
the  effect,  I  suppose,  of  the  African  climate 
upon  her  constitution.  When  I  saw  the  hot 
little  face  and  swollen  eyelids  of  the  sleeping 
child,  all  severity  melted  out  of  my  heart.  I 
darkened  the  window*and  sat  down  beside  the 
bed  with  my  knitting-work  to  wait  till  she 
should  waken.  It  was  not  long  before  Ruth 
opened  her  eyes,  and  as  soon  as  she  saw  me 
she  flung  her  arms  around  my  neck  and  began 
sobbing  bitterly.  I  tried  in  vain  to  soothe 
her. 

"  Will  you  ever  love  me  again  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Why,  dear  child,  I  have  never  ceased  lov- 
ing you,  so  I  cannot  begin  again,"  I  said, 
drawing  the  brown  head  to  a  resting-place  in 
my  arms.  "  You  are  a  little  sick  girl  to-day, 
and  must  not  talk." 

"  But  I  shall  not  get  well  until  I  tell  you 
how  sorry  I  am,  and  until  I  hear  you  say  you 
forgive  me,"  said  Ruth. 

"  I  do  forgive  you,"  I  said,  "  and  I  hope, 
my  child,  you  will  seek  pardon  from  One  far 
greater  whom  you  have  offended." 


THE    COST   OF   RUTH'S   SILK    DRESS.       147 

"  Yes,  auntie ;  I  have  said  my  prayers,  if 
that  is  what  you  mean." 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  how  anxious  you 
were  to  wear  that  dress,  Euth  ?  I  would  have 
explained  my  reason  to  you  more  fully  for 
disapproving  of  it,  and  I  think  you  would  have 
understood  it,  and  felt  willing  to  own  that 
auntie  knew  best." 

"  I  did  not  think  aboufrit  after  you  told  me 
to  wear  the  white  dress  till  Cousin  Kate 
talked  to  me,  and  said  that  she  would  arrange 
it,  and  that  when  you  saw  how  pretty  I  looked 
you  would  not  be  angry.  But  I  don't  mean 
to  lay  the  blame  on  her ;  it  was  all  my  own 
fault,"  sobbed  Euth. 

"Well,  now,  let  us  not  say  another  word 
about  it,  dear.  Just  lie  down  there  while  I 
bathe  your  head,  and  then  I  will  go  and  tell 
Bridget  to  make  you  some  tea  and  a  piece  of 
toast.  Do  not  try  to  get  up  till  I  tell  you ;" 
and  with  this  injunction  I  went  out,  leaving 
the  little  face  far  less  sad  and  anxious  than 
when  I  went  in. 

A  day  or  two  after  this  Euth's  cousin  took 
her  leave  of  us,  with  many  expressions  of 
affection  to  Euth  and  assurances  that  she  had 
had  a  delightful  visit  to  Ferndale.     "  Mother 


148  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

and  I  will  expect  you  in  New  York  this  fall, 
remember,  little  cousin,  and  you  must  make  us 
a  month's  visit  at  least,"  she  said,  at  parting. 

"  Thank  you,"  Buth  replied ;  "  I  will  go  if 
Aunt  Phebe  will  let  me."  But  the  words 
were  spoken  without  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  last  year's  invitation  was  received. 

I  felt  a  sort  of  relief  when  tea-time  came, 
and  I  saw  Bridget  arrange  the  table  for  two 
instead  of  three,  and  I  hope  the  feeling  did 
not  arise  from  any  want  of  hospitality. 

After  our  evening  prayers  were  offered,  I 
drew  my  chair  near  the  light  and  took  up  a 
book  to  read,  but  I  laid  it  down  again  when  I 
saw  Buth  bring  forward  her  little  work-basket 
and  begin  her  charity  sewing. 

"  I  am  getting  behindhand  the  last  few 
days,"  Buth  said  as  she  caught  my  look  of 
surprise,  "so  I  thought  I  would  work  this 
evening." 

"  That  is  a  good  girl,"  I  said,  "  and  I  will 
take  out  my  knitting,  so  that  we  can  talk  and 
work  too." 

We  chatted  together  a  while,  and  then  it 
occurred  to  me  that  this  was  a  good  opportu- 
nity for  speaking  of  what  had  so  long  bur- 
dened my  mind. 


THE   COST   OF   RUTH'S   SILK   DRESS.      149 

"Kuth,  tell  me  now,  truly,  did  you  enjoy 
wearing  your  pretty  dress  the  other  evening 
as  much  as  you  expected  ?" 

"Aunt  Phebe,"  she  said,  letting  her  work 
fall  in  her  lap,  "  I  would  have  given  anything 
to  have  had  the  other  dress  on ;  it  seemed  so 
mean  in  me  to  have  deceived  you.  The  only 
comfort  was  that  none  of  the  girls  looked  half 
as  nice,  and  I  was  sure  they  would  admire  me. 
You  are  going  to  tell  me  how  wrong  that  was  : 
I  can  see  by  your  eyes.  I  know  it,  auntie 
dear,  but  it  is  pleasant  to  think  people  are 
saying  pleasant  things  about  you,  now,  isn't 
it  ?"  continued  the  honest  child,  looking  coax- 
ingly  up  into  my  face. 

"  Dear  Ruth,  I  know  it  is  very  pleasant  to 
be  thought  well  of,  but  it  is  dangerous  to  love 
the  praise  of  men  more  than  that  of  God,  and 
I  fear  you  sought  the  former  only  that  even- 
ing. You  think  that  your  good  appearance 
made  people  say  pleasant  things  about  you. 
Now,  I  don't  want  to  wound  you  causelessly, 
but  I  think  it  may  be  a  good  lesson  to  you  if 
I  repeat  what  I  overheard  one  of  your  young 
friends  say  to  another,  ignorant  that  I  was 
within  hearing :  i  Did  you  ever  see  anything 
like  Ruth's  airs  ?'  and;  '  I  suppose  that  is  some 

13* 


150  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

of  her  grand  cousin's  cast-off  finery  she  is 
dressed  up  in.'" 

Ruth's  face  turned  very  red  and  the  tears 
came  in  her  eyes.  "  Who  said  that  about  me, 
auntie  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  who  it  was,  for  it  would 
make  you  angry  with  that  person,  and  it  is 
yourself  I  would  have  you  find  fault  with.  I 
told  you  this  to  prove  to  you  that  fine  clothes 
do  not  win  love  or  praise,  but  often  just  the 
opposite.  Those  who  loved  you  best  were  only 
sorry  for  your  foolishness,  and  you  see,  after 
all,  Aunt  Phebe  knew  best." 

"  I  know  it,"  s&id  Ruth,  in  a  very  subdued 
tone,  "  and  I  will  never,  never,  disobey  you 
again,  auntie  dear." 

This  was  not  the  last  pang  that  Ruth  suf- 
fered for  her  act  of  folly.  When  school  com- 
menced again,  and  the  vacation  pleasures  were 
being  discussed  at  recess  by  the  little  circle  of 
friends,  the  important  event  of  Ruth's  party 
had  its  full  share  of  comment. 

"  We  had  a  jolly  good  time,"  said  Charlie, 
"  but  I  say,  Ruth,  how  you  did  dash  out  that 
night !  A  fellow  didn't  dare  speak  to  such  a 
fine  lady.  You  looked  just  like  that  wax  lady 
that  stands  in  a  hairdresser's  window  some- 


THE   COST   OF   RUTH'S   SILK   DRESS.      151 

where  in  New  Haven.  I  saw  it  when  I  went 
there  with  father  a  fortnight  ago ;  I  tell  you 
what,  it  was  handsome." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  Kuth  got  her  dress  from 
New  York,"  said  Clara  Gilbert,  with  a  peculiar 
glance  at  her  sister.  "  We  common  folks  have 
to  be  satisfied  with  what  we  can  get  in  Fern- 
dale." 

"  It  must  be  so  convenient  to  have  a  fash- 
ionable cousin  who  can  spare  one  of  her 
dresses  as  well  as  not,"  chimed  in  Sue. 

"  It  is  not  fair  to  say  such  things,  girls,"  said 
Alice,  seriously.  "  I  know  that  was  Euth's 
own  dress,  for  she  showed  it  to  me  when  she 
came  home  last  fall." 

"  Oh,  all  the  same,"  said  the  persistent 
Clara.  "  Her  aunt  had  it  made  over  for  her 
then,  and  now  she  coaxed  Miss  Martin  to  give 
her  a  party,  just  so  she  could  have  a  chance 
to  show  it  off." 

Euth  told  me  all  this  when  she  came  home 
that  day.  She  was  exceedingly  mortified  as 
well  as  angry  at  the  injustice  shown  her  by 
Clara  and  Sue. 

"  I  wish  you  would  give  the  hateful  thing 
away,  auntie,"  she  said,  "  so  I  need  never  see 
it   again.      Do   give   it   to   Mary   Jane ;    she 


152  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

thought  it  was  so  beautiful  that  night,  and  I 
know  she  would  be  proud  of  it." 

"  We  need  not  try  to  make  any  more  people 
proud  by  it,"  I  said ;  'fit  has  done  enough  of 
that  work  already.  Besides,  it  would  be  much 
more  unsuitable  for  Mary  Jane  than  it  was  for 
you ;  think  how  she  would  look  dressed  up  in 
silk,  and  with  her  hair  curled  as  you  had 
yours !" 

"  Oh,  dear  auntie,  if  you  will  only  hide  it 
away  and  never  let  me  see  it  or  hear  of  it 
again,  I  shall  be  so  glad,"  the  poor  child  en- 
treated. "  I  think  I  am  cured  of  wanting  to 
look  pretty." 

I  did  put  the  dress  away  out  of  Kuth's  sight, 
and  for  a  long  time,  whenever  she  was  tempted 
to  a  desire  of  display,  the  mere  mention  of  her 
party  silk  restored  her  to  reason. 


CHAPTEE   XIV. 

CHANGES. 

T  will  not  do  to  advance  day  by  day,  or 
V  even  year  by  year,  through  the  history 
g)  of  Kuth  Allerton's  life.  Her  duties 
and  pleasures  at  school  and  at  home 
had  not  much  variety,  and  the  changes 
wrought  by  their  influence  upon  the  little 
girl's  character  were  gradual  though  positive. 
She  had  constant  battles  to  fight  with  her 
faults,  and  she  had  not  yet  learned  the  motive 
which  alone  makes  us  strong  to  overcome 
temptation, — the  love  and  service  of  the  Sa- 
viour. With  Kuth,  the  desire  to  please  Aunt 
Phebe,  and  have  a  good  report  of  her  be- 
haviour sent  to  her  father  month  by  month, 
were  the  highest  incentives  to  well-doing ;  and 
in  spite  of  these,  which  were,,  so  far  as  they 
went,  good  motives,  there  were  many  occasions 
on  which  her  vanity  and  selfishness  gained  the 
victory.  Kuth  had,  it  is  true,  owing  to  her 
religious  training,  a  habit  of  prayer  and  of 

153 


154  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

judging  all  her  actions  by  the  simple  rules  of 
the  Bible,  but  it  was  as  yet  only  a  matter  of 
education,  and  not  that  voluntary  surrender  of 
herself  to  Grod  which  marks  the  work  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  on  the  soul :  she  had  not  yet  been 
"  born  again."  The  yearly  visits  to  New  York 
always  proved  periods  of  great  temptation  to 
the  easily-influenced  child;  and  as  she  grew 
older  the  novelties  that  surrounded  her  there 
were  not  the  gas  and  speaking-tubes,  and  fine 
stores,  but  such  excitement  as  dancing-parties, 
operas,  and,  as  her  Aunt  Esther  would  say,  all 
the  enjoyments  of  good  society.  Kate  did  not 
repeat  her  visit  to  Ferndale;  evidently  that 
young  lady  stood  in  awe  of  what  she  called 
Miss  Martin's  strict  notions,  and  much  pre- 
ferred her  cousin's  society  at  her  own  home, 
where  she  could  amuse  her  in  her  own  way 
without  being  troubled  by  such  uncomfortable 
restraints.  It  was  during  one  of  these  autumn 
visits  to  the  city  that  her  friend  and  school- 
mate Clara  Gilbert  was  taken  ill  with  what 
seemed  at  first  a  common  cold,  brought  on  by 
careless  exposure,  but  which  quickly  resulted 
in  inflammation  of  the  lungs ;  and  the  disease 
ran  its  course  so  rapidly  that  the  first  news 
Ruth  received  of  the  matter  was  that  Clara 


CHANGES.  155 

was  dead.  The  shock  affected  her  so  much 
that  she  entreated  permission  to  come  home 
at  once,  although  she  had  been  away  less  than 
half  the  usual  time.  I  could  not  understand 
her  strong  feeling  at  first,  and  wondered  at  the 
emotion  she  betrayed  on  her  return  to  Fern- 
dale.  Euth  and  Clara  had  been  intimate 
during  all  their  school-life  together  at  Mrs. 
King's,  but  there  had  never  been  that  warm 
affection  between  them  that  had  from  the  first 
existed  between  herself  and  both  Kitty  and 
Alice  King.  It  was  the  first  time  that  death 
had  come  so  near ;  the  first  time  she  had  been 
brought  to  feel  that  it  might  as  naturally 
have  been  herself.  We  went  together,  the  day 
after  her  return,  to  call  upon  Clara's  mother 
and  sister.  Euth  kissed  Sue  and  began  to 
speak,  but  broke  down  in  a  fit  of  crying. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sue,  mournfully,  "  I  knew  you 
would  feel  sorry  for  us.  Only,  think,  Euth  !  we 
were  invited  to  spend  Thanksgiving  week  in 
Boston,  and  Clara  and  I  had  each  got  two  new 
dresses,  and  a  lot  of  pretty  things,  and  we  had 
got  nearly  ready  to  go,  and  now  " — here  Sue  put 
up  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes — "of  course 
I  must  stay  at  home.  It's  so  dreadfully  gloomy 
here  now  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do.     You 


156  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

know  I  always  looked  up  to  Clara  about  every- 
thing." 

Buth  looked  rather  disconcerted,  and  did  not 
know  what  to  say  after  this  by  way  of  condo- 
lence. She  and  Sue  looked  at  the  matter  in 
very  different  lights. 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Gilbert,  "nobody  knows 
what  a  mother  suffers  in  losing  a  grown 
daughter.  Clara  was  always  so  much  com- 
pany for  me,  and  she  was  a  deal  more  help  to 
me  than  Sue  ever  will  be." 

"  She  suffered  a  great  deal  towards  the  last, 
I  believe?"  said  I.  "  Did  she  have  any  conver- 
sation with  Mr.  Leonard  during  her  sickness, 
Mrs.  Gilbert?" 

"Well,  Miss  Martin,"  she  answered,  slowly, 
"  I  did  tell  Clara  that  she  ought  to  talk  with 
the  minister,  because  if  anything  should  hap- 
pen it  would  be  such  a  comfort  to  know  she 
was  prepared ;  but  she  said, '  Now,  ma,  don't 
talk  like  that,  or  I'll  go  wild.  I  shall  get 
well ;  I  am  not  going  to  die ;  the  doctor  says 
so;'  and  with  that  she  began  to  cry,  and  felt 
so  bad  that  I  hushed  her  up  by  telling  her  I 
didn't  mean  it  and  that  she  was  ever  so  much 
better." 

"  Then  you  do  not  know  how  she  felt  in  re- 


CHANGES.  157 

gard  to  the  future  ?  But  surely,  Mrs.  Gilbert, 
you  talked  with  Clara  yourself  on  the  subject?" 

" Talk  with  her  myself!  Miss  Martin,  you 
don't  know  anything  about  a  mother's  feelings, 
or  you  would  not  think  of  such  a  thing.  And 
as  to  having  the  minister  worrying  her,  poor 
dear  !  I  don't  think,  after  all,  that  it  mattered 
much  that  he  could  not  see  her.  It  is  a  great 
consolation  to  know  that  Clara  was  properly 
instructed  in  religion.  Mr.  Gilbert  and  I  have 
always  been  particular  to  have  the  girls  attend 
church  regularly  and  read  their  Bibles,  and  if 
it  is  their  mother  that  says  it,  there's  many  a 
church-member  not  so  regular  at  meetings  nor 
so  proper  in  her  behaviour  as  my  Clara  was. 
It's  a  great  comfort  to  me,  Miss  Martin,  indeed 
it  is,"  said  the  bereaved  mother. 

"  Aunt  Phebe,  I  don't  understand  Mrs.  Gil- 
bert and  Sue  at  all !"  was  Buth's  comment  as 
we  turned  away  from  the  house.  "  Clara  was 
not  a  Christian,  and  I  don't  believe  she  ever 
thought  about  being  ready  to  die.  Miss  Ches- 
ter used  to  talk  to  us  all  so  earnestly  about  such 
things,  and  Clara  only  made  fun  of  what  she 
said  when  we  girls  were  alone  together." 

"  Ruth,"  I  said,  "I  am  quite  sure  you  never 
1  made  fun '  of  religion,  but  I  am  not  sure,  if 

14 


158  BUTH   ALLERTON. 

death  had  come  to  you  instead  of  Clara  Gil- 
bert, that  you  would  have  been  any  better 
prepared  to  meet  it." 

"  Oh  don't  say  anything  more,  please,  please, 
auntie  !"  was  Euth's  agitated  reply,  and  so  the 
subject  dropped. 

This  sudden  event  cast  a  heavy  shadow  over 
the  j  oyous  school-room.  Charlie  and  Kitty  were 
oppressed  by  the  unusual  quiet,  and  checked 
their  noisy  fun  out  of  school  hours ;  but  the 
impression  was  far  less  deep  upon  their  hearts 
than  those  of  the  other  scholars.  Miss  Ches- 
ter did  not  fail  to  seize  every  opportunity  to 
urge  this  solemn  warning  upon  them  as  a 
direct  call  to  each  to  turn  at  once  to  the  Saviour. 
Dear,  gentle  Alice,  who  had  long  been  wish- 
ing to  make  public  confession  of  that  change 
which  had  been  silently  at  work  within  for 
many  months,  and  only  waited  for  more  courage 
to  take  the  important  step,  was  impelled  by  this 
solemn  event  to  delay  no  longer.  The  Sunday 
after  Euth's  return  she  came  forward,  and  was 
numbered  among  the  little  band  of  disciples  in 
Mr.  Leonard's  church. 

I  wondered  how  this  act  of  her  friend's 
would  affect  Euth,  but  I  did  not  ask  any  ques- 
tions, for  I  hold  that  no  one  has  the  right  to 


CHANGES.  159 

peer  into  a  young  heart  to  see  what  God's 
finger  is  writing  there.  Ruth  in  her  early 
girlhood  was  far  more  reserved  in  regard  to 
her  feelings  than  the  impulsive  child  we  have 
been  describing  in  former  chapters.  Some- 
thing was  to  be  inferred,  I  thought,  from  the 
fact  that  her  New  York  visit  seemed  not  to 
have  given  her  the  usual  amount  of  adventure 
and  enjoyment  to  talk  over  on  her  return  to 
Ferndale.  Usually  my  patience  as  a  listener 
was  taxed  to  the  utmost  for  at  least  a  week 
after  her  arrival  by  the  long  account  of  Cous- 
in Kate's  sayings  and  doings,  of  the  people 
she  had  met  at  her  aunt  Esther's,  and  the 
parties  or  public  amusements  to  which  she  had 
been  invited.  Now  she  had  very  little  to  tell, 
and  indeed  all  the  information  I  received  was 
in  answer  to  my  own  questions. 

A  series  of  private  meetings  for  prayer  and 
study  of  the  Scriptures  was  formed  about  this 
time  by  several  earnest-minded  young  girls  in 
the  neighbourhood.  Alice  was  warmly  inter- 
ested in  these  meetings,  and  Miss  Chester, 
whom  years  of  untiring  zeal  in  trying  to  in- 
fluence the  young  people  with  whom  she  was 
acquainted  to  "remember"  their  "Creator  in 
the  days  of"  their  "  youth  "  had  greatly  en- 


160  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

cleared  to  all  who  heeded  her  instructions,  was 
looked  up  to  as  a  leader  in  their  devotions  and 
an  undoubted  authority  in  all  troublesome  ques- 
tions as  to  Bible  truths  or  private  duty.  Mr. 
Leonard  began  to  call  her  his  assistant,  in  a 
laughing  way,  to  be  sure,  but  with  a  serious 
appreciation  of  her  successful  labours  among 
the  lambs  of  the  flock. 

I  asked  Ruth  one  day  if  she  had  no  thought 
of  joining  her  friends  at  these  prayer-meetings. 

"  I  am  thinking  about  it,  Aunt  Phebe,"  she 
said ;  "  but,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  "  I  am 
not  sure  of  myself,  and  I  mean  never  to  pro- 
fess to  be  a  Christian  till  I  am  very  certain  I 
shall  not  draw  back  from  it.  You  know  I  am 
not  as  steadfast  as  Alice." 
„  I  did  know  it ;  and  this  reasoning,  which  is  so 
common  with  young  people,  and  which  I  should 
have  argued  against  with  most,  I  did  not  seek 
to  combat  with  Ruth.  Her  nature  was,  as  Miss 
Chester  had  said  years  ago,  so  like  that  of  the 
chameleon,  that  takes  its  colour  from  the  pas- 
sions which  move  it  from  time  to  time,  that  I 
held  it  wisest  for  her  to  be  very  sure  that  it  was 
something  deeper  and  more  likely  to  be  per- 
manent than  any  influence  that  should  bring 
about  the  important  step.     That  Ruth  would 


CHANGES.  161 

become  a  Christian  was  a  fact  I  never  doubted, 
having  in  mind  the  many  prayers  that  had  been 
and  were  daily  being  offered  for  her  to  our 
prayer-hearing  God.  It  was  only  a  question 
of  time.  She  did  not  attend  the  meetings, 
however,  and  my  argument  that  to  do  so  would 
not  be  assuming  anything  more  than  her  in- 
terest in  Bible  study  and  religious  conversation, 
which  was  very  sincere,  was  in  vain. 

At  the  close  of  the  summer  term  which  fol- 
lowed Ruth's  sixteenth  birth-day  the  little 
school  which  had  been  steadily  conducted 
through  all  these  years  in  Mrs.  King's  cheer- 
ful room  was  disbanded,  and  Miss  Chester, 
the  dear  friend  and  faithful  teacher,  who 
seemed,  as  Mrs.  King  said,  to  be  one  of  our- 
selves, went  away  from  us  to  fill  an  important 
position  in  the  missionary  work  at  the  South. 
We  knew  how  well  fitted  she  was  for  that  self- 
denying  service,  and  how  truly  her  heart  was 
in  it,  and  so  it  seemed  selfish  to  tell  her  how 
sorry  we  were.  Even  Sue  Gilbert,  whom 
nothing,  not  even  her  sister's  death,  could 
rouse  from  her  indolent  apathy,  remarked 
that  Ferndale  would  be  a  poor  place  enough 
when  Miss  Chester  was  gone,  and  that  if  any- 
body could  make  her  good,  that  one  was  Miss 
14*  L 


162  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

Chester.  Poor  Sue !  her  teacher  had  prayed 
and  spoken  and  striven  by  silent  example  to 
win  this  worldly-minded  girl  to  a  knowledge 
of  her  soul's  need,  but  apparently  in  vain.  All 
the  scholars  had  some  parting  gift  to  offer,  and 
Euth  also  entrusted  to  her  the  earnings  of  her 
charity  hours  for  some  months  past,  to  be  used 
at  her  discretion  for  the  poor  coloured  chil- 
dren among  whom  she  was  going. 

This  closing  of  school-days  was  an  era  in  the 
lives  of  all  the  young  folks.  Charlie  King  had 
separated  from  the  little  band  more  than  a 
year  before,  to  enter  upon  a  clerkship  in  New 
Haven,  from  which  he  hoped  to  rise  to  a  more 
independent  position.  Sue  Gilbert  had  not  re- 
turned to  school  since  Clara's  death.  Alice 
had  for  a  long  time  been  regarded  as  a  grad- 
uate from  Miss  Chester's  seminary,  but  had 
continued  to  recite  in  French  and  German, 
spending  a  portion  of  each  day  in  the  school- 
room to  the  last.  Kitty  and  Euth  had  kept 
together  in  their  studies  from  the  first  term 
until  the  present,  and  now,  though  nominally 
they  were  out  of  school,  they  resolved  to  meet 
every  morning  and  read  together.  Latterly, 
three  or  four  new  pupils  had  been  admitted  to 
the  school,  but  the  others,  though  courteous 


CHANGES.  16"3 

enough,  could  not  at  once  admit  them  to  the 
fellowship  and  intimacy  which  had  existed 
among  the  original  members  of  the  class.  Kitty 
was  a  merry-hearted  girl,  sweet-tempered  and 
sensible;  one  of  the  sort  that  everybody  likes 
and  caresses.  She  had  not  the  depth  of  character 
that  marked  her  elder  sister,  and  did  not  aim 
at  anything  beyond  the  performance  of  home- 
duties,  the  "helping  mother,"  and  " cheering 
up  father,"  which  seemed  her  special  province. 
Euth  loved  Kitty  very  dearly,  and  was  now-a- 
days  more  in  her  society  than  ever,  but  she 
reverenced  Alice  as  a  superior  being,  and  used 
her  name  always  as  a  superlative  of  girlish 
goodness ;  never  imagining  that  she  or  Kitty 
could  possibly  attain  to  such  heights  of  virtue. 
Nevertheless,  the  heroine  of  Euth's  dreams  of 
excellence  was  an  unconscious  and  humble- 
minded  young  Christian,  and  limited  her  am- 
bition to  perfecting  herself  in  her  studies  and 
doing  what  good  she  might  among  the  poor 
and  ignorant  of  Fernclale. 


CHAPTEE    XV. 

DELIVERANCE  FROM  DEATH. 

|  NE  November  evening,  the  close  of 
one  of  the  gray,  cheerless  sort  of  days 
that  abound  in  that  month,  I  closed 
the  curtains  and  lighted  the  lamp 
earlier  than  usual,  and  then  visited 
the  kitchen  to  see  that  my  cook  (not  Bridget, 
for  she  had  married  and  gained  a  home  of  her 
own  years  before)  had  everything  in  readiness 
for  supper  at  a  moment's  notice. 

Then  I  took  a  newspaper  and  sat  down  by 
the  table  to  read.  It  was  not  of  much  use  to 
try ;  my  eyes  were  wandering  every  moment 
to  the  door,  and  my  ear  was  straining  to  catch 
the  first  sound  of  approaching  footsteps.  I 
began  by  saying  it  was  "  one  November  even- 
ing;" rather,  it  was  the  November  evening 
which  to  this  day  stands  out  from  all  other 
evenings  and  all  other  Novembers  with  such 
startling  distinctness  that  the  mere  mention 
of  it  makes  me  live  it  all  over  again  in  mem- 

164 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  DEATH.      165 

ory.  I  was  expecting  Ruth  home  from  New 
York.  She  had  made  a  longer  visit  than 
usual;  and  of  late  years,  since  she  had  grown 
from  childhood  to  woman's  estate,  and  I  was 
getting  farther  on  the  downhill  side  of  life,  I 
missed  her  sorely,  and  was  less  patient  when 
the  visit  was  prolonged  than  I  used  to  be. 
This  fall,  too,  I  was  yearning  more  than  ever 
to  see  my  child  transformed  into  that  new 
creature  of  which  St.  Paul  speaks  (2  Cor.  v. 
17).  I  was  anxious  to  know  if  the  serious  im- 
pressions made  upon  her  by  the  various  events 
of  the  last  chapter  had  remained  and  strength- 
ened, or  if  they  had  been  frittered  away  by 
the  worldly  influences  of  her  aunt  Esther '-s 
home.  Somehow,  I  felt  as  if  the  turning- 
point  in  Ruth's  life,  whether  for  good  or  evil, 
was  near  at  hand. 

The  letter  which  I  had  received  from  her 
the  day  before,  and  in  which  she  had  told  me 
to  look  for  her  by  this  evening^  train,  did  not 
wholly  satisfy  me.  Hitherto,  however  much 
she  had  enjoyed  her  annual  visit  to  New  York, 
she  had  seemed  glad  to  come  back  again, 
somewhat  as  a  child  tired  out  with  play  longs 
to  go  home  and  rest.  This  time  there  had  been 
more  excitement  than  usual.     Kate  had  been 


166  EUTH   ALLEETON. 

married  the  week  before  to  a  man  of  whom 
I  had  heard  nothing  but  that  he  was  very- 
wealthy.  That  was  enough  to  satisfy  both 
Kate  and  her  mother.  Ruth  had  entered  with 
all  her  enthusiasm  into  the  wedding  prepara- 
tions ;  she  was  one  of  the  bridesmaids,  and  had 
looked  "  quite  bewitching,"  as  she  wrote  me  in 
her  lively  account  of  the  occasion,  in  the  hand- 
somest dress  she  had  ever  possessed,  given  her 
by  Aunt  Esther.  The  newly-married  couple  had 
just  started  on  an  European  tour,  and  Ruth's 
aunt  was  very  anxious  to  keep  her  pretty  young 
niece  with  her  through  the  winter,  and  had 
written  to  me  repeatedly  on  the  subject.  I  had 
refused;  not  for  selfish  reasons,  but  because  I 
believed  that  Ruth's  father  would  agree  with 
me,  if  he  had  known  all  about  the  matter,  that 
Ferndale  was  a  better  place  for  his  daughter 
than  New  York.  In  this  last  letter  Ruth  had 
written : 

*l  I  know  you  have  good  reasons,  auntie,  for 
wanting  me  to  come  home,  so  I  will  not  tease 
you  to  let  me  stay ;  but  then,  you  kind,  good 
auntie!  just  think  for  a  moment  how  lonesome 
it  will  be  for  poor  Aunt  Esther,  all  by  herself 
in  this  great  house,  and  with  no  one  to  amuse 
her.     She  says  that  if  I  could  only  stay  she 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  DEATH.     167 

would  spare  no  pains  in  making  it  pleasant, 
but  as  for  going  to  parties,  the  opera,  and  the 
theatre  with  nobody  but  Uncle  Holden  for  com- 
pany, she  would  rather  stay  at  home  altogether. 
You  see,  auntie,  it  would  be  an  act  of  pure  be- 
nevolence on  your  part  to  let  me  stay  just  a 
month  or  two.  But  I  promised  not  to  tease 
you,  and  I  will  not,  especially  as  it  is  now  too 
late  for  the  teasing  to  have  any  good  effect.  I 
shall  be  home,  without  fail,  in  time  to  drink  my 
cup  of  tea  with  you  on  Wednesday." 

It  was  an  unwilling  home-coming  this  time 
for  my  Euth,  I  sighed  to  think.  Ever  since 
the  reading  of  her  letter  I  had  been  trying  to 
devise  plans  for  making  the  winter  pass  pleas- 
antly to  her  and  relieving  the  monotony  of 
our  quiet  life,  so  agreeable  to  an  old  body  like 
me,  but  likely,  though  for  the  first  time,  to 
prove  irksome  to  Euth,  now  a  little  over 
eighteen. 

"Will  you  wait  much  longer  for  Miss  Euth, 
ma'am?  It's  going  on  to  nine  o'clock,  and 
you  must  be  ready  for  your  cup  of  tea." 

It  was  Eose  speaking,  the  girl  who  filled 
Bridget's  vacated  place  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Nine  o'clock  !    Why,  Eose,  are  you  sure?" 

I  put  on  my  glasses  and  looked  at  the  clock : 


168  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

the  girl  was  right.  While  I  had  sat  there  so 
lost  in  my  reveries  as  to  forget  how  the  hours 
were  passing,  the  time  for  the  evening  train 
had  come  and  gone  long  ago.  I  stood  up  and 
looked  at  the  girl  in  utter  bewilderment  for  a 
moment. 

"  Shall  I  bring  your  tea  in  here,  ma'am  ?" 
"  Tea  ?  No,  Rose ;"  for  I  felt  just  then  such 
a  sickening  dread  of  evil  come  over  me  that 
to  swallow  a  mouthful  would  have  been  impos- 
sible. "  Go  take  your  supper  at  once,"  I  said, 
"  for  you  must  be  very  hungry,  and  then  come 
to  me." 

When  she  closed  the  door  and  went  back  to 
the  kitchen,  I  sank  back  in  my  chair  and  tried 
to  collect  my  thoughts  sufficiently  to  decide 
what  was  to  be  done.  I  tried  hard  to  comfort 
myself  by  thinking  that  the  train  had  doubt- 
less arrived  at  the  usual  time,  but  that  Ruth 
had  changed  her  mind  about  coming  that  day 
wl*en  it  was  too  late  to  send  me  word.  But 
no ;  that  possibility  did  not  satisfy  me.  Ruth 
was  very  particular  in  such  matters,  and  when 
she  had  written  that  I  might  expect  her  at  a 
particular  time,  it  would  be  a  very  serious 
cause  that  would  prevent  her  from  keeping  her* 
engagement. 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  DEATH.      169 

Eose  returned  presently  from  the  kitchen ; 
she  had  caught  the  reflection  of  my  anxious 
thoughts,  and  began  suggesting  all  sorts  of 
improbable  causes  for  the  delay. 

"  Get  ready  at  once,  Rose,"  I  said,  "  and  run 
to  the  depdt  and  find  out  if  the  train  has  come 
in,  or  if  not,  what  is  the  matter." 

She  had  hardly  left  the  house  when  there 
came  a  hurried  ring  at  the  door-bell.  It  was 
one  of  our  neighbours. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news,  Miss  Martin?" 
he  asked,  in  an  excited  voice. 

"No;  tell  me,  quick!  what  is  it?"  for  my 
thoughts  did  not  hesitate  in  applying  the  word 
"news"  to  the  subject  uppermost  in  my  mind. 

"I  heard,  but  I  hope  it  is  not  so,  that  your 
niece  was  coming  from  New  York  by  this 
train." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  said,  trembling  with  fear.  "  Oh, 
tell  me  quickly  !  what  has  happened  ?" 

"  A  message  has  just  come  from  New  Haven 
that  a  collision  has  occurred  about  forty  miles 
beyond  there — somewhere  near  S ,  I  sup- 
pose ;  the  particulars  were  not  given,  but  no 
doubt  another  telegram  will  arrive  if  there  was 
any  serious  damage.  If  Miss  Ruth  was  on 
board  the  train,  she  will  be   detained   until 

15 


170  EUTH  ALLEETON. 

morning.  Now,  don't  be  uneasy,  Miss  Martin ; 
I  will  find  out  all  I  can,  and  let  you  know  as 
soon  as  any  further  tidings  arrive." 

"  I  fear  you  know  more  already,  Mr.  Clark, 
than  you  tell  me.  Don't  hesitate  to  say  just 
how  matters  are ;  I  can  bear  anything  better 
than  suspense." 

The  kind-hearted  man  paused  to  think  how 
best  to  frame  a  sentence  that  should  have  just 
enough  truth  in  it  to  quiet  my  apprehensions 
of  something  worse,  and  before  he  had  his 
reply  ready,  Kose  came  running  up  the  path, 
and  meeting  me  at  the  door,  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  Miss  Martin,  there  has  been  an  acci- 
dent on  the  road,  and  they  say  ever  so  many 
people  are  killed.  What  will  we  do  at  all," 
ma'am  ?     Maybe  Miss  Euth  is  dead." 

"  Hush,  girl !  don't  you  see  how  you  startle 
your  mistress !"  said  Mr.  Clark  to  Eose. 

But  there  was  no  need  of  caution ;  the  ter- 
rible possibility  seemed  to  bring  courage  with 
it  for  whatever  trial  the  next  few  hours  might 
lay  upon  me.  Of  all  God's  promises,  not  one 
is  more  faithfully  fulfilled  in  every  Christian's 
experience  than  this :  "  As  thy  day,  so  shall 
thy  strength  be."  Mr.  Clark  bade  me  good- 
night, assuring  me  again  that  I  should  be  in- 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  DEATH.     171 

formed  if  any  further  intelligence  reached 
Ferndale  about  the  accident.  I  insisted  that 
Rose  should  go  to  bed ;  though  the  good  girl, 
with  the  common  idea  that  it  is  dreadful  to  be 
alone  in  trouble,  begged  to  be  allowed  to  sit 
up  with  me.  I  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
thinking  of  my  poor  child,  perhaps  injured  for 
life,  and  suffering  among  strangers,  perhaps — 
oh  what  a  chilling  thought  was  that ! — al- 
ready numbered  with  the  dead.  It  was  well 
for  me  that  idle  speculations  as  to  what  was 
possible  had  to  give  way  to  immediate  consid- 
erations as  to  what  was  best  to  be  done.  Should 
I  wait  for  further  tidings,  or  go  at  once  to  find 
and  take  care  of  Ruth  ?  I  decided  to  go  by  the 
morning  train  to  New  Haven,  where  I  could 
learn  all  that  was  to  be  known  of  the  details 
of  the  accident,  and  proceed  at  once,  if  possi- 
ble, to  the  scene.  A  few  articles  were  quickly 
packed  in  a  valise,  and  a  few  words  written  in 
pencil  to  Mrs.  King,  which  I  would  leave  for 
her,  explaining  my  departure ;  and  then  I  went 
to  bed. 

Early  next  morning  I  wakened  Rose  to  get 
me  a  cup  of  coffee  and  attend  to  some  direc- 
tions about  house-matters  during  an  uncertain 
period  of  absence  on  my  part. 


172  RUTH   ALLEETON. 

It  was  a  dreary  journey.  I  kept  my  eyes 
closed  behind  my  veil,  alternately  offering  up 
brief  prayers  for  all  who  might  be  wounded 
and  dying,  and  wondering  how  and  where  I 
should  find  Ruth.  Ferndale  was  situated,  as 
I  have  said,  on  a  branch  road  from  New  Haven, 
and  instead  of  proceeding  directly  on  my  way, 
I  was  obliged  to  wait  about  half  an  hour  in  that 
city.  Of  course  I  spent  the  time  in  making 
inquiries  about  the  event  of  yesterday.  It  was 
the  general  theme  of  conversation,  and  much 
information  was  freely  rendered  by  groups  that 
passed  me  in  the  street,  or  gathered  in  the 
depdt.  "  A  terrible  disaster,"  said  one.  "  They 
say  there  are  upwards  of  fifty  lives  lost,"  said 
another.  "  All  through  the  engineer's  careless- 
ness," was  the  exclamation  of  a  third.  At  such 
a  time  rumours  always  exaggerate  facts,  and  I 
tried  to  hope  things  were  not  so  bad  as  repre- 
sented. I  was  one  of  a  dense  crowd  of  pas- 
sengers on  the  cars  to  S .  There  were  many 

anxious  faces  among  them,  anclnot  a  few  women 
were  crying.  Perhaps  they  have  husbands,  bro- 
thers, or  children  among  the  killed,  I  thought, 
and  my  heart  ached  at  the  thought  of  so  much 
suffering,  brought  about,  humanly  speaking,  if 
indeed  the  report  were  true,  by  the  wicked 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  DEATH.      173 

carelessness  of  one  man.*  Oh  what  a  scene  of 
confusion  met  our  eyes  on  reaching  the  village 

of  S *!     Fragments  of  broken  cars  were 

lying  about ;  mutilated  bodies  were  being  car- 
ried away,  on  being  recognized  by  their  friends ; 
mourners  went  about  the  streets.  I  inquired 
of  one  and  another  if  anything  were  known  of 
Ruth  Allerton,  describing  her  appearance  as 
well  as  I  could. 

"  Look  in  here,  ma'am,"  said  a  rough-look- 
ing man,  who  had  nevertheless  a  very  pitying 
tone  in  his  voice,  and  he  led  the  way  to  a 
building  near  the  railroad  track,  where  lay  in 
rows  upon  the  floor  the  bodies  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  some  mangled  and  bruised  so 
that  the  nearest  friend  could  hardly  recognize 
the  features,  and  others  looking  as  tranquil 
and  unharmed  as  if  sleep  had  overtaken  them, 
not  death. 

"  Is  the  young  lady  among  these  ?"  asked 
my  guide. 

With  a  great  throb  of  thankfulness  to  God, 
I  answered,  "  No." 

After  an  hour's  fruitless  search  at  one  house 
and  another  where  the  injured  travellers  had 

*  And  how  long  shall  such  "  wicked  carelessness "  go 
unpunished  ? — Editor. 
15* 


174  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

been  taken,  I  gave  the  oft-repeated  description 
of  my  Buth  at  the  door  of  a  pretty  cottage, 
and  received  the  welcome  answer,  "  Yes,  she 
is  here."  The  lady  who  opened  the  door  had 
preserved  the  handkerchief  found  in  the  pocket 
of  her  guest's  dress,  and  showed  it  to  me. 
When  I  saw  the  mark,  "  Euth  Allerton,"  neatly 
written  in  the  corner  by  the  dear  child's  own 
hand,  I  nearly  fainted  from  the  sudden  relief 
experienced  by  exchanging  anxious  doubt  for 
hope. 

"  Tell  me,  is  she  alive  ?"  I  asked. 

"  She  is  alive,  and  the  doctor  says  with 
great  care  she  may  recover.  I  will  tell  you 
all,  but  first  you  must  sit  down  and  rest,  for 
you  look  very  tired.  I  did  not  know  until 
that  moment  how  exhausted  I  was,  and  gladly 
sank  in  the  rocking-chair  to  which  the  lady 
led  me. 

"  Excuse  me  a  moment,"  she  said,  and  left 
the  room,  to  return  very  soon  with  a  cup  of 
hot  coffee  and  a  tempting  slice  of  toast. 

"  You  must  eat  this,"  she  said,  "  and  look  a 
little  less  pale  before  I  dare  let  my  patient  see 
you.  Are  you  the  'Aunt  Phebe'  the  young 
lady  talks  about?" 

I  told  her  who  I  was,  and  learned  that  the 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  DEATH.      175 

name  of  my  hostess  was  Mrs.  Miller,  and 
while  I  sipped  the  coffee  she  told  me  all  that 
she  could  of  the  fearful  event  of  the  previous 
evening : 

"  Husband  and  I  were  on  our  way  home 
from  a  friend's  house,  some  way  out  of  the 
village,  when  we  heard  an  awful  crash,  as  if 
an  earthquake  had  shaken  down  all  the  houses 
in  the  place,  and  then  such  confusion  of 
sounds,  such  shrieks  for  help,  it  made  my 
blood  run  cold.  We  hurried  through  the 
street  and  followed  the  crowd;  everybody 
rushed  at  the  sound,  forgetting  everything 
else.  Well,  quite  a  way  beyond  the  village 
(you  saw  the  spot  as  you  came,  I  suppose) 
there  lay  just  a  great  heap  of  smashed  cars 
and  dead  bodies,  and  all  around  were  women 
screaming,  and  men,  some  running,  with  the 
blood  streaming  from  their  wounds,  and  others 
crazy  with  fright.  All  our  people  went  to 
work  at  once  separating  the  living  from  the 
dead,  and  a  great  work  it  was,  you  may  be 
sure.  Husband  and  I  made  our  way  through 
the  crowd,  and  by  good  luck,  or  rather  by 
good  Providence,  we  caught  sight  of  a  young 
lady  lying  a  little  off  the  road,  as  if  she  had 
been  thrown  there  by  the  shock  of  the  col- 


176  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

lision.  Says  I  to  husband,  '  There  are  enough 
just  here  to  look  after  these  folks ;  let  us  take 
a  look  and  see  if  that  poor  creature  is  alive.' 
So  we  went  to  her,  and  found  her  quite  sense- 
less, with  her  head  bruised  and  her  arm'  bleed- 
ing from  a  great  gash  she  had  received.  We 
got  a  wagon  and  brought  her  right  home  with 
us,  and  my  daughter  Lizzie  and  I  have  been 
nursing  her  the  best  we  could, .  since.  She 
suffers  very  much  with  her  head,  and  is  part 
of  the  time  delirious,  so  you  must  not  be  sur- 
prised if  she  does  not  know  you  at  first.  I  am 
so  glad  you  have  come,  ma'am.  You  will  stay, 
of  course,  till  she  gets  better,  won't  you?" 

I  nodded  assent. 

"  Then,  I'll  just  take  your  bag  up  stairs  and 
fix  you  a  bed  in  a  little  room  that  opens  into 
the  sick  lady's.  You  had  better  wait  here  a 
little  while,  Miss  Martin,  till  I  see  if  she  is  in 
a  fit  state  to  see  you." 

Mrs.  Miller  left  me  a  while,  and  then  re- 
turned to  say  I  might  come  with  her  if  I 
would  try  to  avoid  exciting  the  sick  girl. 

Could  that  be  Ruth,  so  pale  and  wan,  lying 
on  the  bed,  with  her  head  bound  up  and  her 
eyes  closed,  looking  as  if  she  were  really 
dead  ?     I  advanced  very  softly  to  the  bedside 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  DEATH.     177 

and  took  her  hand.  She  opened  her  eyes,  and 
looked  at  me  with  a  blank  stare,  and  muttered 
some  unintelligible  words.  I  could  hardly 
keep  back  the  tears  at  sight  of  my  poor  child ; 
and  then  the  fact  of  her  not  knowing  me,  her 
poor  "  Auntie,"  who  had  nobody  in  all  the  world 
to  love  but  her— this  was  a  crowning  blow.  I 
felt  it  deeply,  though  I  had  been  warned. 
Mrs.  Miller  left  me,  with  another  injunction 
to  be  very  careful  about  exciting  her,  and 
some  directions  about  medicine  which  the 
doctor  had  left.  My  little  Ruth  alive  and 
safe !  I  could  not  be  glad  enough,  or  thank 
God  enough  for  his  unspeakable  mercy  in 
sparing  her  life. 

M 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

ORPHAN  GRACE. 

HILE  -Ruth  slept  I  busied  myself  with 
arranging  things  about  the  room  so  as 
to  give  it  a  more  comfortable  appear- 
ance. All  had  been  done  by  the  kind 
people  who  had,  under  God,  saved  my 
niece's  life  that  could  reasonably  be  expected 
in  the  haste  and  excitement  of  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours,  but  many  things  were  lacking  which 
one  would  consider  quite  necessary  to  comfort 
in  a  sick-room  at  home.  I  hoped  that  Ruth 
would  be  able  to  bear  the  journey  to  Ferndale 
in  a  few  days,  but  could  form  no  plans  until  I 
had  seen  the  doctor  and  knew  the  extent  of  her 
injuries.  I  wrote  a  few  lines  to  Mrs.  King,  who 
I  knew  would  be  anxious  to  hear,  and  then 
began  a  letter  to  Mr.  Allerton.  On  second 
thoughts,  I  concluded  not  to  write  to  him  by 
that  month's  mail.  His  health  had  failed  so 
seriously  of  late  that  he  had  yielded  to  the  per- 

178 


ORPHAN   GRACE.  179 

suasions  of  his  brother  missionaries  and  started 
on  a  trip  down  the  coast,  expecting  to  be  ab- 
sent from  his  work  about  three  months.  An 
occasional  journey  like  this  had  hitherto  suf- 
ficed to  restore  his  wasted  strength,  with  the 
exception  of  a  single  voyage  to  England  during 
the  past  nine  years ;  but  in  his  last  letter  he 
had  owned  to  greater  weakness,  resulting  from 
a  recent  attack  of  fever,  than  he  had  before  ex- 
perienced, and  had  written:  "If  this  change 
of  air  and  scene  does  not  put  me  in  good  work- 
ing order,  I  think  I  must  take  a  long  vacation 
next  summer,  and  go  home  to  take  one  more 
look  at  my  darling  child  before  God  calls  me 
hence."  I  had  not  mentioned  this  sad  news 
in  my  letters  to  Ruth,  who  was  then  in  New 
York,  and  now  saw  how  well  it  was  that  I 
had  not,  for  in  her  present  state  any  anxious 
thought  of  the  past  would  probably  have  re- 
curred to  her  and  increased  the  disorder  of 
her  mind. 

The  darkness  of  the  room  and  the  absence 
of  any  sound  save  the  regular  ticking  of  an  old 
clock  on  the  high  mantel-piece  so  accorded  with 
my  drowsy  feelings  that  before  long  I  dropped 
away  to  sleep.  How  long  my  nap  might  have 
lasted  I  know  not,  but  a  sudden  movement  ac- 


180  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

companied  by  a  little  cry  of  pain  roused  me. 
Ruth  had  wakened,  and  had  hurt  her  lame  arm 
by  trying  to  change  her  position  in  bed.  I 
went  to  her,  smoothed  her  pillow,  and  attempted 
to  move  her,  so  that  she  would  lie  more  com- 
fortably. She  fixed  her  large  eyes  upon  me 
with  a  vacant  stare,  and  then  said  wearily, 

"Do  go  away  and  let  me  alone.  Tell  Aunt 
Esther  I  am  too  tired  to  go  out  with  her  this 
morning.  I  wonder  if  she'll  think  to  stop  at 
Stewart's  and  ask  about  that  bundle  ?  They 
promised  to  send  it  home  yesterday.  Go,  tell 
her,  Mary;"  and  she  waved  her  hand  to  me 
to  go,  mistaking  me  no  doubt  for  the  maid  who 
usually  waited  upon  her  in  New  York.  I 
kissed  her  pale  forehead  very  quietly  and  said : 

"  This  is  not  Mary ;  it  is  your  aunt  Phebe, 
who  has  come  to  see  you.  Don't  you  know  me, 
dear?" 

She  looked  perplexed  a  moment,  and  then 
turned  her  head  away,  as  if  half  provoked,  and 
said  to  the  imaginary  person  : 

"What  makes  you  talk  so  foolishly,  girl? 
My  aunt  Phebe,  indeed !  You  know  she  lives 
in  Ferndale,  and  has  no  idea  of  coming  to  New 
York." 

Afraid  of  needlessly  exciting  her,  I  made  no 


ORPHAN   GRACE.  181 

answer,  but  filled  a  teaspoon  with  the  medi- 
cine I  had  been  directed  to  give  at  this  hour, 
and  put  it  to  her  lips.  She  dashed  it  away, 
and  began  to  laugh.  • 

"  I  don't  want  any  refreshments  just  now  ;  I 
ate  enough  ice  cream  at  the  party  last  night 
to  last  me  a  week." 

I  said  nothing,  but  refilled  the  spoon,  and 
this  time  she  swallowed  its  contents  without  a 
word. 

It  seemed  so  strange  to  see  Ruth  in  this  half- 
crazed  state !  While  I  knew  there  was  nothing 
alarming  in  her  wandering,  it  made  me  sad. 
A  pleasant-faced  girl,  whom  I  guessed  at  once 
to  be  Mrs.  Miller's  daughter  Lizzie,  opened  the 
door  very  softly  and  beckoned  to  me.  I  went 
to  the  door,  and  she  whispered,  "  Mother  says 
will  you  please  go  down  and  eat  your  dinner 
now,  and  I  will  stay  with  Miss  Ruth."  She 
took  the  seat  I  had  occupied  beside  the  bed.  I 
looked  back  to  see  if  Ruth  noticed  the  change, 
but  she  was  lying  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  wall 
paper,  as  if  she  were  counting  the  figures,  and  ap- 
parently quite  unconscious  of  what  was  going 
on  around  her.  I  found  my  way  to  the  kitchen, 
where  the  table  was  set  for  dinner,  and  found 
Mrs.  Miller  and  a  large  man  with  very  abun- 

16 


182  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

dant  whiskers  and  a  twinkle  in  his  small  blue 
eyes  that  betokened  plenty  of  fun  and  good- 
humour  standing  by  the  stove.  Mrs.  Miller 
introduced  him  as  her  husband. 

"  Sit  down,  ma'am,  sit  down,"  he  said,  "and 
make  yourself  at  home.  Jane,  my  dear,"  he 
continued,  glancing  at  his  wife,  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve this  lady  is  used  to  eating  in  the  kitchen 
and  in  company  with  checked  shirts."  Here  he 
looked  down  at  his  sleeves  with  a  dubious  ex- 
pression, and  then  up  to  my  clean  cuffs,  as  if 
noticing  the  difference  in  colour.  I  laughed, 
and  told  my  merry-faced  host  that  I  was  not 
at  all  such  a  fine  lady  as  to  object  to  a  good 
dinner,  in  a  clean  kitchen,  and  with  such  com- 
pany as  himself  and  wife. 

"  Let  us  give  thanks,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden 
sobering  of  countenance,  and  then  asked  a 
blessing  on  the  meal  with  a  devoutness  of  man- 
ner that  proved  to  me  that  I  was  in  a  God- 
fearing household. 

"I  hope  you  don't  find  your  niece  worse 
than  you  expected,  ma'am?"  said  Mr.  Miller, 
after  seeing  that  my  plate  was  supplied  with  a 
bountiful  share  from  every  dish  on  the  table. 

"lam  greatly  relieved  to  find  her  alive  and 
in  such  kind  hands,"  I  replied.     "  I  did  not 


ORPHAN   GRACE.  183 

hear  any  details  of  the  accident  until  I  arrived 
here,  and  the  most  that  I  know  now  is  what 
your  wife  has  told  me." 

"  And  I  was  afraid  to  tell  her  a  great  deal, 
John,  for  the  poor  lady  looked  as  pale  and  ill 
when  I  opened  the  door  for  her  as  if  she  had 
been  on  the  cars  when  it  all  happened.  Have 
many  of  the  bodies  been  claimed  and  taken 
away  this  morning  ?"  Mrs.  Miller  inquired  of 
her  husband. 

"  Yes,  several ;  and  by  the  way,  Jane,  I 
wanted  to  ask  you  about  something.  There's 
a  little  girl  that  they  took  over  to  Miss 
Green's  that  has  had  father  and  mother  both 
killed  in  this  affair — the  prettiest  little  piece  of 
human  nature  I  ever  set  eyes  on,  poor  baby ! 
Now,  Miss  Green  don't  want  her,  she  says — 
you  know  she  never  takes  to  children — and  I 
was  just  thinking,  wife,  as  I  was  coming  home 
this  noon,  that  maybe — "  Here  the  good  man 
paused  and  rested  the  handles  of  his  knife 
and  fork  on  the  table,  while  the  blue  eyes 
twinkled  in  the  direction  of  his  wife's  face. 

"  Out  with  it,  John  !"  she  said,  with  a  smile. 
"  You  were  thinking  that  maybe  I  would  take 
the  child  :  was  that  it  ?" 

"  I  didn't  know  but  you  could  manage  it, 


184  BUTH   ALLERTON. 

but  I  did  not  say  so  to  Miss  Green ;  I  thought 
I'd  mention  it  to  you,  and  you  could  do  as  you 
thought  best." 

It  was  pretty  clear  that  Mr.  Miller  felt  con- 
fident that  his  wife  would  think  best  to  do  just 
the  thing  his  own  warm  heart  had  suggested. 

"  Well,  I  guess  we'd  better  take  her,  poor 
little  one !  I  know  I  would  not  like  a  child 
of  mine  to  stay  long  at  Miss  Green's.  She 
can  sleep  with  Lizzie,  and —  Yes,  we  can  take 
her  as  well  as  not ;  bring  her  along  when  you 
come  up  to  supper." 

"  My  wife  never  says  '  No,'  when  she  ought 
to  say  'Yes,' "  the  big  man  said,  in  an  aside  to 
me,  a  merry  chuckle  sounding  in  his  voice  and 
sending  a  gleam  through  every  feature,  even 
to  the  ends  of  the  bushy  whiskers. 

As  we  rose  from  the  table,  Mrs,  Miller  asked 
me  to  wait  a  moment,  and  brought  from  the 
stove  some  nice  delicate  broth,  which  she 
poured  in  a  bowl  and  put  on  a  tray  covered 
with  a  fine  white  napkin,  together  with  some 
thin  slices  of  dainty  bread  and  butter. 

"Will  you  please  take  this  up  with  you? 
and  if  Miss  Euth  is  asleep  yet,  Lizzie  will 
bring  it  down  again  to  be  kept  warm.  The 
doctor  won't  allow  me  to  give  her  anything 


ORPHAN   GRACE.  185 

more  substantial  just  yet/'  said  Mrs.  Miller. 
"  By  the  by,  the  doctor  said  he  would  be  in 
about  two  o'clock,  so  I  must  hurry  and  get  my 
dishes  out  of  the  way,  and  then  I  will  put  or 
a  clean  apron  and  come  up  to  see  how  she  is 
getting  on." 

I  found  Ruth  awake,  but  lying  very  quietly, 
just  as  when  I  left  her,  and  Lizzie  sitting  with 
a  book  in  her  hand,  which  she  had  been 
studying. 

"  Do  you  go  to  school,  my  dear  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  only  now  that  mother  is  busy 
she  said  I  might  stay  at  home  for  a  while  and 
help.  I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  school  to- 
day, for  everybody  in  the  village  has  some  sick 
people  or  visitors." 

Lizzie  went  down  stairs,  and  Ruth  allowed 
me  to  feed  her  with  the  broth,  without  saying 
this  time  that  she  did  not  want  any  refresh- 
ments. I  put  her  head  gently  back  on  the 
pillow,  and  began  bathing  her  face  and  hands. 
A  more  conscious  look  came  in  her  face. 

"  You  are  very  much  like  my  Aunt  Phebe," 
she  said.  "  Tell  me,  are  you  really  Aunt 
Phebe  ?  and  how  did  you  get  here  ?  where  am 
I?"  and  she  looked  all  about  her,  examining 
even  the  night-dress  she  had  on,  seeming  to 

16* 


186  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

discover  for  the  first  time  that  it  was  not  her 
own. 

"  You  are  very  sick,  Ruth,  and  away  from 
home,  but  Aunt  Phebe  is  here  to  take  care  of 
you ;  so  don't  think  any  more  about  it,  but  see 
if  you  cannot  go  to  sleep  a  little  while." 

I  think  she  hardly  understood  all  I  said,  for 
the  poor  brain  had  received  a  dreadful  shock, 
and  would  recover  very  slowly,  I  feared;  but 
she  closed  her  eyes  obediently,  as  if  quite  tired 
with  the  effort  she  had  made  to  think.  The 
doctor  came  before  Mrs.  Miller  was  ready  to 
appear  with  her  clean  apron  on,  so  I  received 
him  alone.  He  felt  Ruth's  pulse,  asked  several 
questions,  and  when  I  in  turn  inquired  what 
he  thought  of  the  case,  said : 

"  She  will  get  over  this ;  no  doubt  of  it,  but  the 
greatest  care  must  be  taken  not  to  excite  her. 
Let  nature  do  its  work.  I  will  leave  a  seda- 
tive draught,  in  case  she  is  restless  to-night, 
and  I  would  advise,  if  you  are  a  relative  of 
the  young  lady's,  as  I  suppose,  that  you  take 
the  entire  charge  of  her — that  is,  as  nearly  so 
as  possible ;  it  will  not  do  for  her  to  see  many 
different  faces  about  her." 

When  Lizzie  came  to  take  my  place,  to  let 
me  go  down  to  tea,  Tasked  her  to  sit  out  of 


ORPHAN   GRACE.  187 

Buth's  sight,  but  so  that  she  could  see  if  any- 
thing were  needed. 

"  Here  is  our  new  visitor,  Miss  Martin,"  were 
the  words  with  which  Mr.  Miller  greeted  me 
as  I  entered  the  kitchen.  He  was  sitting  by 
the  stove  with  a  little  girl  on  his  knee.  A  pair 
of  bright  black  eyes  glanced  shyly  towards  me 
as  he  spoke,  but  quickly  turned  back  towards 
the  big  friendly  face  that  had  even  so  soon  won 
the  little  heart's  entire  confidence. 

"Now  go  on !"  she  pleaded,  and  began  run- 
ning her  fingers  through  Mr.  Miller's  whis- 
kers in  a  very  coaxing  way.  "What  became 
of  the  fairy  woman  and  the  little  pig?  and 
where  did  the  princess  run  away  to  ?" 

"  I  think  we  will  run  to  the  table  and  see 
what  our  fairy  yonder  will  give  us  to  eat. 
Come  along,  Grace.   Take'a  seat,  Miss  Martin." 

It  was  a  very  winning  little  person,  cer- 
tainly, that  answered  to  his  call,  and  stood  by 
the  table  waiting  for  him  to  lift  her  into  the 
seat  prepared  for  her.  Grace  looked  about  six 
years  old,  had  a  happy  round,  face,  lighted  up 
by  two  great  black  eyes,  and  when  she  laughed 
shook  a  head  full  of  thick  black  curls  that 
danced  around  a  pair  of  healthy  red  cheeks  in 
a  very  fascinating  manner. 


188  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

Mrs.  Miller  nudged  me. 

"  She  is  a  darling,  now  isn't  she  ?" 

Grace  soon  finished  her  supper,  and  jumped 
down  to  make  acquaintance  with  a  great  dog 
stretching  himself  before  the  stove.  I  asked 
Mrs.  Miller  in  a  low  voice  if  anything  had  been 
heard  from  the  child's  friends. 

"  Not  a  word  yet,"  she  said,  "  but  we  will 
take  good  care  of  the  little  blessing  till  some- 
body comes  to  claim  her.  She  minds  me  won- 
derfully of  my  own  little  Mary  that  we  lost. 
I  wish  her  friends  would  come  for  her  soon, 
for  I  shall  get  to  loving  her  dearly,  and  then 
it  will  be  hard  to  let  her  go." 

"  Do  you  know  the  name  of  her  parents  ?"  I 
asked. 

"  No,  not  even  that.  She  has  lost  both  father 
and  mother  at  one  blow,  and  has  dropped  here 
among  strangers.  She  will  warm  up  our  hearts, 
I  guess." 

I  thought,  as  I  listened  to  the  good  woman, 
that  if  the  little  orphan  should  prove  friend- 
less, and  so  be  left  to  the  charity  of  those  who 
took  her  in,  she  had  "  dropped  "  into  one  of  the 
happiest  spots  and  among  the  warmest  hearts 
that  Providence  prepares  for  the  reception  of 
just  such  homeless  ones. 


ORPHAN  GRACE.  189 

When  I  returned  to  my  charge,  I  found  her 
restlessly  tossing  from  one  side  to  the  other  of 
her  bed,  and  moaning  as  if  in  much  pain.  She 
would  not  even  look  up  when  I  begged  her  to 
taste  the  gruel  I  had  brought.  All  through 
that  night  she  was  feverish,  and  kept  mutter- 
ing disconnected  sentences,  the  burden  of  most 
of  them  being  her  aching  head.  Even  the 
dose  which  the  doctor  had  left  failed  to  have 
any  effect.  I  did  not  dare  to  sleep  lest  she 
should  grow  worse  and  need  me,  so  I  rested 
my  heavy  heart  by  pouring  out  all  its  anxieties 
at  the  mercy-seat.  I  had  so  much  to  ask  for ; 
first,  that  Ruth's  life  might  be  spared,  and  then, 
if  that  were  not  according  to  the  will  of  Him 
who  holds  our  times  in  his  hand,  that  she  might 
be  so  far  restored  to  reason  as  to  be  able  to 
come  repentant  and  believing  to  her  Saviour, 
and,  though  in  her  last  hours  on  earth,  be- 
come the  subject  of  that  wondrous  change,  that 
passing  from  death  to  life,  that  should,  through 
the  unspeakable  mercy  of  our  Redeemer,  make 
her  an  heir  of  eternal  glory. 

Towards  morning  she  fell  into  a  refreshing 
sleep,  which  lasted  for  hours,  and  proved  the 
turning-point  from  which  she  gradually  but 
steadily  improved  in  health. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  CHANGED  HEART. 

AYS  of  patient  nursing,  days  of  hope 
that  the  worst  of  Ruth's  suffering  was 
over,  alternating  with  sad,  anxious  days 
when  the  struggle  back  to  health  seemed 
too  hard  for  the  weak  frame  to  endure, 
brought  us  on  to  the  bleakness  of  December. 
Thanksgiving  had  passed  by  without  the  usual 
joy  and  feasting.  There  was  still  too  much 
sickness  and  mourning  in  the  various  houses 

of  the  little  village  of  S to  admit  of  the 

customary  preparations  on  the  part  of  the  good 
housewives.  It  is  true  the  dead  and  wounded 
ones  in  that  memorable  accident  were  not  mem- 
bers of  those  homes,  but  most  of  them  from 
distant  parts  of  the  country.  Still,  the  mem- 
ory of  the  recent  scene  of  terror  cast  a  shadow 
over  the  place,  and  those  who  were  not  too  busy 
attending  to  the  sick  and  providing  for  guests, 
brought  there  in  numbers  by  the  event,  had  little 
heart  for  the  usual  merry-making.     No  doubt 

190 


A   CHANGED    HEART.  191 

there  was  much  fervent  giving  of  thanks  from 
many  there  who,  like  me,  had  received,  as  it 
were,  their  dead  brought  back  to  life  again. 
Kuth  was  not  yet  able  to  bear  the  journey  back 
to  Ferndale ;  she  was,  however,  at  the  close  of 
the  first  week  of  winter,  so  far  on  her  way 
towards  recovery  that  she  could  step  from  the 
bed  to  an  easy-chair,  and  there,  reclining  among 
pillows  and  shawls,  spend  an  hour  or  more 
without  weariness.  Her  arm  was  no  longer 
painful,  though  very  weak,  and  her  brain  had 
recovered  its  healthy  condition,  only  that  severe 
headaches  were  sure  to  come  on  as  reminders 
of  her  late  weakness  if  she  indulged  in  long 
or  exciting  conversation.  The  accident  had 
left  an  impression  of  horror  upon  her  mind,  so 
that  she  was  for  a  long  time  unwilling  to  talk 
about  it  herself,  or  even  to  hear  any  of  the 
fearful  details  of  the  scene  mentioned  by  others. 
Thus  the  subject  was  by  common  consent  avoided 
by  all  the  family  when  in  her  presence.  One 
day,  when  with  Lizzie's  aid  I  had  placed  her  in 
the  large  chair  and  drawn  her  to  her  favourite 
spot,  between  the  fireplace  and  the  window, 
she  said  to  her  faithful  little  attendant,  "  Run 
away  now,  Lizzie,  and  breathe  some  fresh  air, 
or  Doctor  Deane  will  soon  have  two  patients 


192  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

on  his  hands  instead  of  one ;"  and  as  soon  as 
the  child  was  out  of  hearing  she  took  hold  of 
both  my  hands  in  a  caressing  way,  and  said : 

"  JSTow,  auntie  dear,  I  want  you  to  sit  down 
here  by  me  and  tell  me  from  beginning  to  end 
all  about  the  accident." 

"  But,  darling,  I  am  afraid  of  bringing  on 
one  of  your  headaches;  you  have  all  along 
shown  such  a  dread  of  the  subject.  Do  you 
really  want  to  hear  all  about  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  really,  I  do,"  she  said,  very  seriously, 
"  for  I  have  never  yet  heard  all  the  particu- 
lars of  that  day ;  then,  when  you  have  done, 
I  shall  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

So  I  began  the  story  much  as  I  have  written 
it  here,  going  back  to  the  evening  when  I  sat 
waiting  for  her  ring  at  the  door,  and  recount- 
ing all  the  minutiae  of  my  journey  next  day, 
picturing  her  own  death-like  appearance  when 
I  first  saw  her  lying  senseless  on  the  bed,  and 
describing  as  well  as  I  could  the  various  stages 
of  her  recovery  up  to  the  time  when  she  be- 
came fully  conscious  of  her  state  and  surround- 
ings. While  I  spoke  I  saw  the  tears  filling  her 
eyes  and  felt  her  hand  tremble  as  it  lay  on  my 
arm.  I  was  afraid  that  the  emotion  the  story 
excited  would  prove  too  much  for  her  weak 


A   CHANGED    HEART.  193 

frame,  and  began  to  blame  myself  for  yielding 
to  her  request. 

"  Don't  be  troubled,  auntie,  because  I  am  cry- 
ing," she  said;  "it  is  not  because  I  am  nervous 
or  unhappy,  but  oh,  so  very  glad  and  thank- 
ful !  I  have  been  wanting  to  tell  you  some- 
thing, but  I  haven't  had  a  good  chance  until 
now,  and  then" — Kuth  paused  and  hid  her 
face  on  my  shoulder — "  it  is  not  easy  to  speak 
of  some  things." 

My  thoughts  turned  at  once  to  the  New 
York  visit,  and  an  instant  fear  arose  that  Ruth 
had  been  tempted  into  some  indiscreet  action 
or  foolish  extravagance  in  the  way  of  dress, 
but  I  said  soothingly  : 

"  If  you  are  going  to  confess  something  wrong 
that  you  have  done,  don't  be  afraid,  dear  child, 
for  I  am  quite  ready  to  forgive  you  before  I 
hoar  what  it  is;"  and  so  saying,  I  stroked  the 
brown  head  resting  on  me  very  tenderly.  Its 
owner  raised  it  with  a  smile  through  her  tears. 

"  Your  guess-work  is  not  quite  right  this 
time,"  she  said.  "  It  is  not  of  something  that 
I  have  done  I  want  to  tell  you,  but  of  some- 
thing that  God  has  been  doing  for  me.  Auntie, 
he  has  been  showing  me,  in  the  quiet  hours  I 
have  spent  in  this  room,  how  unspeakably  good 

17  N 


194  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

he  is,  and  how  worthless  I  am.  I  wonder  why- 
he  spared  my  life  ?  Why  did  he  not  let  me  die 
there  alone  on  the  road,  instead  of  sending 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Miller  to  take  care  of  me  when 
so  many  better  people  were  dying  ?  I  have  been 
sinful  all  my  life,  and  yet  until  now  I  really 
thought  I  was  as  good  as  anybody  else.  I 
wonder  if,  after  all,  God  will  forgive  me  ?  No, 
I  don't  wonder,  either,  for  I  know  he  has  done 
it  already,  and  that  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ, 
his  Son,  cleanseth  from  all  sin  !  Auntie,  I  have 
so  much  to  say  to  you ;  I  wanted  to  tell  you 
how  good  God  has  been  to  me,  how  happy  he 
is  making  me,  and  how  I  am  longing  and  pray- 
ing to  be  made  a  true  Christian.  But  I  can't 
tell  you  all  this  at  once.  I  am  so  tired  now, 
dear  auntie.  Won't  you  help  me  back  to  the 
bed,  and  then  kneel  down  by  me  and  pray  for 
me, — for  me,  your  wilful,  sinful  Euth  ?" 

I  did  as  she  requested,  and  answered  her, 
but  how  I  cannot  at  all  remember.  My  cup 
of  joy  was  full  to  overflowing ;  my  prayers 
were  all  heard,  and  all  answered,  and  after 
this  conversation  I  felt  somewhat  as  the  aged 
Simeon  must  have  felt  when  he  exclaimed : 
"  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in 
peace."     His  longings  were   all  satisfied,  be- 


A  CHANGED   HEART.  195 

cause  he  had  lived  to  see  the  Saviour,  and, 
through  him,  the  salvation  of  God  brought  to 
his  people  Israel.  My  joy  was  more  limited, 
less  exalted,  but  it  seemed  as  much  as  my  poor 
heart  could  hold.  For  many  years  I  had  been 
praying  for  and  waiting  for  the  salvation  of 
this  one  soul  so  very  dear  to  me,  and  now  that 
God  had  granted  all  my  desire  I  was  ready  to 
depart  whenever  he  willed  it ;  my  work  seemed 
all  done.  I  knelt  beside  the  bed  and  poured 
out  my  gratitude  and  praise,  but  so  brokenly 
that  none  could  have  understood  those  dis- 
jointed utterances  but  that  Holy  Spirit  who 
awoke  the  feelings  of  joy  such  as  no  words 
could  express,  and  the  one  human  soul  who  was 
the  occasion  of  it  all.  Ruth  was  too  tired  to 
talk  any  more,  but  she  lay  for  a  long  time  with 
her  hand  resting  in  mine,  and  glancing  up  to 
my  face  ever  and  anon  with  such  a  look  of 
tranquil  happiness  on  her  countenance  that 
the  features  seemed  almost  too  thin  a  veil  to 
hide  the  soul's  ecstasy.  After  a  while,  she 
said : 

"  Auntie,  can't  you  remember  some  of  those 
sweet  hymns  they  sing  at  the  prayer-meetings 
in  Ferndale  ?  How  I  should  enjoy  those  meet- 
ings now !     Please  repeat  some   of  them  to 


196  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

me, — those  that  have  the  most  about  Jesus  in 
them." 

I  understood  what  she  wanted — what  we  all 
want  when  our  hearts  are  warmest  with  the 
love  of  our  dear  Saviour.  The  excellence  of 
the  poetry,  the  beauty  of  the  similes  employed, 
are  of  little  account  at  such  times ;  we  search 
for  those  throbbing  heart-words  which  bring 
us  into  the  very  presence  of  Him  in  whom  our 
souls  delight.  Euth  closed  her  eyes  and  lay  very 
quiet  while  I  repeated  these  old  favourites : 


and 


"  Sweet  the  moments,  rich  in  blessing, 
Which  before  the  cross  I  spend," 


"  H^w  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds 
In  a  believer's  ear !" 


and  that  other,  upon  whose  words  of  clinging 
trust  many  a  soul  has  climbed  in  its  first  reach- 
ing after  the  mighty  Deliverer  from  sin  and 
death,  and  which  untold  numbers  of  ransomed 
ones  have  whispered  with  their  dying  breath, 
and  then  exchanged  for  that  "new  song"  which 
the  white-robed  multitude  are  singing  around 
the  throne  of  Grod  : 

"  Kock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee ; 


A   CHANGED   HEART.  197 

Let  the  water  and  the  blood 
From  thy  wounded  side  that  flowed 
Be  of  sin  the  double  cure, 
Save  from  wrath  and  make  me  pure." 

Ruth  dropped  off  to  sleep  by  and  by; — a  quiet, 
restful  slumber  that  refreshed  both  body  and 
mind.  Taking  advantage  of  the  leisure  thus 
afforded,  I  commenced  a  letter  to  Mr.  Allerton, 
for  it  was  again  near  time  for  the  African  mail. 
Now  I  could  tell  him  the  whole  story  of  the 
accident  and  its  results  without  affording  him 
anxiety,  since  I  was  able  by  this  time  to  add 
assurances  of  Ruth's  certain  steps  towards 
health  and  our  probable  return  to  Ferndale 
by  the  close  of  another  week.  I  did  not  allude 
to  the  one  subject  which  of  all  others  was  to 
cause  joy  to  the  father's  heart.  Ruth  would 
like  best  to  make  known  her  blessed  experience 
to  him  with  her  own  pen,  and  it  seemed  prob- 
able she  would  be  able  to  write  a  short  note  to 
enclose  in  my  letter  before  mail  day.  The 
doctor  was  beginning  to  speak  more  encourag- 
ingly as  to  her  entire  recovery  from  the  effects 
of  the  injury  done  to  her  head  than  he  had 
hitherto  done,  and  while  he  insisted  upon  great 
care  being  used  for  months  to  come  in  avoid- 
ing over  exertion  and  excitement,  he  withdrew 
17* 


198  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

the  restrictions  he  had  at  first  enforced  in  re- 
gard to  her  seeing  and  talking  with  different 
friends.  During  the  past  weeks  many  letters 
of  sympathy  and  interest  had  reached  me  from 
Ferndale,  and  several  friends  were  only  wait- 
ing for  the  word  of  permission  to  be  sent  be- 
fore coming  to  express  their  affection  and  con- 
gratulation in  person.  There  had  come  a  note 
to  Ruth  from  her  aunt  Esther  when  she  was 
yet  in  a  critical  condition,  and  I  had  not  dared 
show  it  to  her  until  a  few  days  before  the  time 
of  which  I  am  writing.  The  note  expressed 
much  regret  at  the  dreadful  occurrence ;  par- 
ticularly as  it  was  so  likely  her  niece's  appear- 
ance might  be  seriously  injured  by  her  fall.  A 
package  of  the  newest  novels  was  also  forwarded 
by  Mrs.  Holden,  to  help  Ruth  to  kill  time  dur- 
ing the  tediousness  of  convalescence,  she  wrote. 

"  I  shall  not  dare  to  come  on  to  S to  see 

you,  my  dear,"  said  the  note,  "  for  you  know 
how  sensitive  my  nerves  are,  and  it  would  make 
me  quite  ill  to  have  to  see  lame  and  wounded 
people  all  around ;  and,  after  all,  I  could  do  you 
no  good,  for  I  am  no  hand  at  nursing,  and  you 
are  probably  not  able  to  enjoy  company  much 
just  yet."  This  epistle,  coming  as  it  did  when 
my  dear  child  was  hovering  between  death  and 


A   CHANGED   HEART.  199 

life,  seemed  so  frivolous  and  heartless  that  I 
was  ready  to  condemn  the  writer  unjustly. 
She  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  fashion- 
able and  worldly  woman ;  her  expression  about 
the  possible  damage  to  Ruth's  appearance  and 
the  gift  of  the  worthless  novels  were  alike  meant 
in  kindness ;  only  they  did  not  agree  with  my 
ideas  of  kindness. 

Sometimes  the  little  orphan  Grace  would  trip 
up  stairs  with  Lizzie  to  help  in  bringing  the  sick 
lady's  dinner ;  often  she  would  stand  outside  the 
door  when  some  one  else  was  entering,  and 
shyly  peep  through  the  crack  at  the  pale  face 
on  the  bed.  One  day  Ruth  coaxed  her  in  by 
the  tempting  offer  of  a  share  in  the  orange  she 
was  eating,  and  then  exerted  her  powers  of 
attraction  to  such  good  purpose  that  when  I 
came  in  from  my  daily  half-hour's  exercise  I 
found  the  little  gipsy  perched  on  the  arm  of 
the  easy-chair  in  which  Ruth  sat,  chattering 
away  to  her  friend  in  high  glee.  After  this, 
the  ice  being  broken,  Miss  Grace  was  not  sat- 
isfied with  peeping  through  the  crack  of  the 
door,  but  only  waited  there  long  enough  to  be 
invited  in,  and  then  leaped  on  the  bed  or  arm- 
chair, whichever  her  dear  "  sick  lady"  chanced 
to  be  occupying,  with  all  the  ease  and  assur- 


200  RUTH   ALLEETON. 

ance  of  a  tame  kitten.  Even  the  propriety  of 
asking  permission  before  she  came  in  was  ac- 
quired only  after  sundry  lessons  in  manners 
which  she  daily  received  down  stairs  from  the 
motherly  Mrs.  Miller.  No  one  had  yet  come 
to  claim  the  child,  no  letter  of  inquiry — though 

many  such  had  lately  arrived  at  the  S 

post-office  from  anxious  friends  of  the  different 
sufferers — bore  any  reference  to  little  Grace. 
All  the  Miller  family  had  become  so  attached 
to  the  stranger  pet  that  they  felt  no  desire  to 
give  her  up ;  no  doubt  they  would  have  adopted 
her  in  the  place  of  the  lost  daughter  Mary,  of 
whom  Mrs.  Miller  could  never  speak  without 
tears,  had  their  purse  been  as  full  as  their 
hearts  were  warm.  Grace  herself,  with  a  child's 
supreme  indifference  to  the  future,  never  ex- 
pressed a  hope  or  desire  in  the  matter.  She 
had  "grand  times"  in  the  large  comfortable 
kitchen,  with  the  good-natured  old  dog  for  a 
playmate,  a  share  in  the  various  good  things 
that  from  day  to  day  appeared  from  Mrs.  Mil- 
ler's store-closet,  and  were  compounded  into 
pies,  puddings,  and  cakes,  all  of  which  Grace 
"  helped  make,"  and  looked  forward  confidently 
to  the  game  of  romps  with  Mr.  Miller,  which 
became   an  established  custom   after  supper, 


A   CHANGED   HEART.  201 

while  Lizzie  and  her  mother  were  washing  and 
putting  away  the  dishes.  As  for  relatives,  if 
the  child  had  any,  she  was  not  acquainted  with 
them,  for  to  all  Mrs.  Miller's  questions  about 
possible  aunts,  uncles,  and  cousins,  she  only 
shook  her  curly  head,  saying,  "  I  lived  with 
my  papa  and  mamma  before  I  came  here,  and  I 
suppose  they  will  come  and  take  me  home  again 
some  day."  This  was  her  invariable  answer, 
and  the  little  creature,  all  unconscious  of  her 
loss,  seemed  never  to  think  the  delay  strange, 
or  to  wish  her  mamma  and  papa  would  hurry 
and  come  for  her. 

Ruth  grew  very  fond  of  Grace,  and  beguiled 
many  an  hour  of  her  convalescence  in  telling 
her  stories  and  teaching  her  little  hymns. 
Grace  made  no  objections- to  learning  and  re- 
peating these,  feeling  amply  repaid  by  the 
applause  her  attainments  excited  down  stairs, 
and  the  possible  reward  of  a  stick  of  candy 
from  Mr.  Miller's  coat  pocket  when  a  new 
verse  had  been  recited  without  a  mistake. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

RUTH'S    VISITORS. 


HH  NE  morning  the  early  train  brought 
us  a  visitor  in  the  person  of  Mr. 
Leonard. 

"Do  you  feel  quite  able  to  see 
him,  my  dear?"  I  asked  as  I  was 
about  to  go  down  to  the  parlour  to  receive 
him. 

" Yes,"  Ruth  answered ;  "I  have  thought 
of  him  a  good  many  times  lately,  and  wished 
he  would  come  to  see  me,  but  then  I  hardly 
dared  hope  for  a  visit.  Do,  auntie,  bring  him 
right  up." 

Mr.  Leonard  brought  many  messages  from 
our  Ferndale  friends,  which  he  delivered  at 
once,  for  fear,  as  he  said,  that  he  should  forget 
all  about  them  when  he  began  talking  on  his 
own  account.  I  asked  him  to  come  up  imme- 
diately, for  Ruth  was  impatient  to  see  him. 
"  Is  she  really  better  ?     Is  the  child  to  be 

202 


ruth's  visitors.  203 

spared  to  us,  after  all?"  he  asked,  with  much 
emotion. 

"  Come  with  me  and  see  for  yourself,  Mr. 
Leonard;  and  Kuth  will  doubtless  feel  like 
telling  you  some  other  good  news,  over  which 
I  know  you  will  rejoice  even  more  than  that 
she  is  gaining  in  health.  Oh  no,"  I  con- 
tinued, in  answer  to  his  look  of  inquiry,  "  I 
will  leave  all  the  pleasure  of  telling  you  to 
Euth  herself.  I  know  she  would  prefer  it 
so."  • 

We  had  now  reached  the  door  of  the  sick- 
room. "  Do  not  be  surprised  if  you  find  her 
much  changed  in  appearance,"  I  said,  "for 
this  sickness  has  been  too  serious  not  to  have 
left  its  mark  upon  her." 

"  I  did  not  know,  my  child,  if  I  should  ever 
see  you  again  in  this  world,"  the  old  man  said 
as  he  pressed  in  both  of  his  the  little  thin 
hand  Earth  extended  to  him,  her  face  beaming 
with  a  joyous  welcome. 

"  And  if  I  had  died  that  terrible  day,  Mr. 
Leonard,"  Euth  replied,  a  shudder  coming 
over  her  at  the  memory,  "  I  am  afraid  it  would 
have  been  without  the  hope  of  meeting  you  in 
a  better  world." 

Mr.  Leonard  gazed  at  her  a  moment  without 


204  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

speaking,  as  if  trying  to  take  in  the  full  mean- 
ing of  her  words ;  then  drawing  a  chair  near 
hers,  he  sat  down,  and  said : 

"  R,uth,  when  you  express  so  dreadful  a  fear 
in  case  God  had  called  you  away  at  that  time, 
do  you  mean  that  now  you  have  the  hope 
which  you  had  not  then  ?" 

"  I  mean  just  that,  Mr.  Leonard,  and  I  was 
going  to  try  and  tell  you  how  merciful  and 
good  God  has  been  to  me ;  I  did  not  know  you 
would  understand  me  so  soon." 

"  If  you  had  not  spoken  a  word,  my  child,  I 
think  I  should  have  seen  from  your  face  that 
there  had  been  a  change  wrought  by  some- 
thing besides  sickness.  ISTow,  let  me  hear  all 
about  it ;  I  know  you  have  much  to  tell,"  said 
Mr.  Leonard. 

Ruth  told  him  in  simple,  fervent  language 
all  that  she  had  told  me  of  the  great  change 
that  had  been  wrought  in  her.  She  had  to 
speak  of  herself,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  without 
any  of  her  former  egotism.  She  viewed  her- 
self now  as  only  the  unworthy  receiver  of 
God's  great  mercy,  giving  to  her  Saviour  all 
the  glory,  and  taking  to  herself  all  blame  and 
reproach  for  having  for  so  many  years  with- 
stood the  Holy  Spirit. 


ruth's  visitors.  205 

"You  and  Aunt  Phebe,"  she  said,  "have 
tried  so  long  and  so  faithfully  to  bring  me  to 
my  Saviour,  and  I  would  not  come.  How 
much  sorrow  I  have  caused  you  both !" 

"Ah,  but  the  joy  you  are  giving  us  now 
more  than  repays  our  past  anxiety,  does  it 
not,  Miss  Martin  ?"  said  the  minister,  turning 
to  me.  "  Let  us  kneel  down  and  thank  God 
for  having  brought  this  stray  lamb  safely  to 
his  fold." 

It  was  no  formal  prayer  that  followed — no 
mere  words  of  thankfulness — for  the  hearts  of 
the  three  who  knelt  in  that  quiet  room  were 
touched  by  the  sense  of  that  lovingkindness 
of  our  God  which  had  granted  all  our  petitions 
in  behalf  of  this  loved  one.  It  was  the  voice 
of  one  who  knew  temptation,  and  trial,  and  the 
deceitfulness  of  the  heart,  by  painful  experi- 
ence, who  entreated  in  behalf  of  this  young 
disciple  wisdom  to  see  the  strait  and  nar- 
row way,  daily  strength  to  walk  therein,  and 
the  constant  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  that 
so  she  might  "  continue  Christ's  faithful  soldier 
and  servant  unto  her  life's  end." 

We  sat  talking  together  for  a  time  of  such 
themes  as  fellow- Christians  love  to  dwell  upon 
when  some  special  event  brings  their  hearts 

18 


206  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

into  unison  and  removes  the  thick  wall  of  re- 
serve which  the  world  builds  up  between  them 
on  ordinary  occasions.  There  was  a  light  tap 
at  the  door,  and  little  Grace  bounded  in,  but 
started  back  when  she  saw  the  strange 
gentleman. 

"No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Leonard,  rising,  and 
catching  the  child  in  his  arms.  "I  don't 
allow  such  little  folks  to  run  away  from  me;" 
and  with  the  words  he  gave  her  a  toss  in  the 
air  which  seemed  to  convince  that  frolicsome 
little  person  that  she  had  no  need  to  fear. 
Mr.  Leonard  seated  her  on  his  knee,  and  fol- 
lowed up  the  advantage  he  had  already  gained 
by  a  very  animated  story,  which  his  older 
hearers  strongly  suspected  to  have  been  made 
up  for  the  occasion. 

"  You  are  real  nice,  and  I  like  you,  and  I'm 
glad  now  I  didn't  know  you  were  here,  because 
then  I  should  not  have  come  up,  and  I  should 
have  lost  that  story,"  said  Grace  to  the  min- 
ister with  a  grave  candour  that  made  us  all 
smile. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  Mrs.  Miller's  little  girl, 
eh,  butterfly  ?"  said  Mr.  Leonard  to  her. 

"  No,  sir.  I  am  not  Mrs.  Miller's  little  girl 
at  all:   I'm   Grace;"  with  which  conclusive 


ruth's  visitors.  207 

speech  the  restless  child  slipped  down  from 
her  new  friend's  knee,  and  began  climbing  to 
her  favourite  seat  on  the  arm  of  Ruth's  chair. 
Pretty  soon,  finding  she  could  not  as  usual 
claim  her  whole  attention,  she  glided  down 
and  ran  off  to  find  more  congenial  society. 

"What  a  lovely  child  she  is!"  said  Mr. 
Leonard.  "  She  belongs  to  some  of  your 
neighbours  here,  I  suppose  ?" 

We  soon  related  all  that  we  knew  respecting 
the  little  girl's  sad  history.  Mr.  Leonard  was 
touched  and  interested  by  the  story,  and  asked 
a  second  time,  "  Do  you  really  not  know  her 
name?  and  has  no  one  come  to  seek  her?" 

I  assured  him  that  in  all  the  weeks  that  had 
elapsed  since  the  accident  which  had  deprived 
Grace  of  both  her  parents  no  clue  had  been 
obtained  as  to  where  she  belonged,  nor  if  she 
had  any  friends  to  provide  for  her. 

"Poor  lamb!  poor  lamb!"  he  said,  with  a 
heavy  sigh.  A  glance  at  his  watch  showed 
him  it  was  time  to  go,  as  he  wished  to  return 
home  by  the  train  that  was  about  to  start. 

"  I  must  bid  you  good-bye — and  that  means, 
really,  God  be  with  you !  you  know,  Ruth — 
until  you  return  to  Ferndale  next  week.  I 
will  send  you  a  little  book,  however,  by  Miss 


208  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

King  and  her  sister.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  they 
think  of  coming  to-morrow  or  the  next  day, 
provided  my  report  of  you  is  favourable;  it 
will  be,  very,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  "  Take 
good  care  of  her,  Miss  Martin,"  he  said, 
shaking  hands  with  me,  "  and  bring  her  home 
as  soon  as  possible." 

Ruth  wanted  to  talk  over  with  me  the 
pleasant  call  and  the  many  interesting  words 
that  had  been  spoken  by  our  beloved  pastor ; 
I  would  not  allow  her  to  weary  herself  with 
any  more  conversation,  however,  for  I  saw 
that  she  had  already  had  as  much  fatigue  as 
was  good  for  her,  and  so  insisted  on  her  lying 
down  and  taking  a  nap  before  dinner. 

The  next  day  proved  stormy,  so  that  the 
sick  girl  had  a  quiet  rest,  of  which  I  was  glad, 
for  she  was  still  so  weak  that  even  so  slight  a 
thing  as  Mr.  Leonard's  visit  had  wearied  her. 
Mr.  Miller — who  had  for  some  time  been 
proposing  to  call  upon  her,  but  had  not  suc- 
ceeded, because  he  went  out  to  his  work  long 
before  she  was  awake,  and  when  he  came  in 
for  the  evening  she  was  usually  too  tired  to 
see  any  one — contrived  to  spare  time  after 
dinner  to  go  up  and  spend  a  few  moments  in 
Ruth's  company.     This  call  of  congratulation 


Butt  ailertnn. 


"'!    It 


dis/&p£&&rsi 


You  see  I  am  getting  well  very  fast  now."        p. : 


ruth's  visitors.  209 

on  her  recovery  was  quite  an  important  event 
in  Mr.  Miller's  view,  and  to  do  the  young  lady 
all  the  honour  possible,  he  swallowed  his  dinner 
hastily  and  retired  to  his  room,  whence  he 
emerged  in  due  time  dressed  in  his  Sunday 
suit,  and  also  washed,  brushed,  and  shaven 
with  a  care  not  usually  bestowed  on  his  per- 
sonal appearance.  When  Ruth  held  out  her 
hand  to  her  preserver,  as  she  always  called 
Mr.  Miller,  he  took  hold  of  it  very  gently  with 
his  thumb  and  finger.  She  smiled  and  said, 
"  Why,  you  don't  know  how  to  shake  hands, 
sir." 

"  Not  with  such  a  poor  little  wisp  of  a  hand 
as  that,  Miss  Ruth ;  I  am  afraid  I  should  break 
it  off  if  I  shook  it  as  hard  as  I  feel  like 
doing." 

"  You  see  I  am  getting  well  very  fast,  now," 
said  Ruth.  "  I  don't  know  how  I  am  ever  to 
thank  you  and  Mrs.  Miller  for  all  you  have 
done  for  me." 

''Never  mind  that,"  said  he;  "just  you 
thank  the  Lord — yes,  thank  the  Lord  !  Why, 
miss,  we  never  would  have  seen  you  at  all  if 
he  had  not  turned  our  eyes  that  way." 

"  I  do  thank  God,  Mr.  Miller,  more  than  I  can 
express,  for  he  has  been  wonderfully  good  to 

18*  o 


210  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

me ;  still,  you  must  let  me  say  how  much  I  feel 
all  that  he  has  put  in  your  heart  to  do  for  me." 

"  It's  my  opinion,  Miss  Kuth,  if  you'll  allow 
a  plain  man  to  have  his  say,  that  you  have  had 
a  new  lease  of  life  given  you,  and  that  you  have 
no  business  to  waste  it  on  the  gewgaws  young 
ladies  like  you  are  so  fond  of.  You  won't  take 
offence,  I  hope,  when  I  say  if  anybody  ought  to 
serve  the  Lord  Jesus  in  a  thorough-going  way, 
it's  one  that's  been  spared  like  you  from  the 
very  jaws  of  death." 

Mr.  Miller  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair  as 
he  concluded,  and  tried  to  cough,  as  people  do 
when  they  are  not  quite  sure  how  their  words 
will  be  taken,  for  this  noble-hearted  man  was 
as  bashful  as  he  was  big. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid  of  my  taking  offence,  Mr. 
Miller,"  Euth  replied;  "I  thank  you  for  re- 
minding me  of  the  truth,  and  with  God's  help 
I  do  mean  to  serve  him,  not  better  than  before, 
as  I  was  going  to  say,  for  I  have  never  yet 
served  him  at  all.  I  shall  not  forget  what  you 
have  just  said,  sir." 

"  All  right,  then,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  But  I 
want  to  know,  before  I  go,  how  soon  we  are  to 
see  you  down  stairs.  Wife  keeps  giving  good 
reports  of  you,  but  I  sha'n't  be-  satisfied  that 


ruth's  visitors.  211 

you  are  really  better  till  I  see  you  eat  a  big 
piece  of  beefsteak." 

"  I  have  done  that  already,"  said  Ruth. 

"  Oh,  but  I  want  to  see  you  with  my  own 
eyes.  You've  got  to  sit  beside  me  at  the  table 
and  eat  all  I  put  on  your  plate.  I'll  help  you 
to  get  well  faster  than  any  doctor." 

"  Well,  sir,  if  Aunt  Phebe  will  give  her  con- 
sent, I  think  I  may  be  able  to  go  down  to  din- 
ner to-morrow,"  Ruth  said. 

After  her  visitor  had  gone,  Ruth  sat  leaning 
her  head  on  her  hand  for  some  time  without 
speaking. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  my  dear,"  I 
said  presently. 

"  I  was  thinking,  auntie,  of  what  Mr.  Miller 
said  about  my  having  a  *  new  lease  of  life 
granted  to  me,  and  I  was  wondering  in  what 
way  God  would  like  me  to  use  it." 

"  Then  ask  him  to  teach  you,  Ruth,  and  you 
will  be  sure  to  judge  aright.  Perhaps  he  has 
no  great  work  for  you  to  do,  but  means  you  to 
glorify  him  in  the  small  duties  of  ordinary  life. 
Only  bring  him  a  willing  heart,  dear,  and  he 
will  be  sure  to  show  you  the  work  he  has  for 
you.  '  Commit  thy  ways  unto  the  Lord.'  'In 
all  thy  ways  acknowledge  him,  and  he  shall- 


212  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

direct  thy  paths.'  These  are  very  plain  and 
comforting  assurances  for  you." 

"  So  they  are,  auntie ;  and  as  Miss  Chester 
used  to  say,  we  have  only  to  mind  our  present 
duties  one  at  a  time,  for  as  soon  as  one  is  well 
done,  God  will  see  to  it  that  another  is  ready 
for  us." 

"  Well,  your  first  duty,  then,  is  to  try  and  be 
prudent  and  careful,  so  that  you  may  get  well 
soon  and  ready  to  take  the  next  work  God  gives 
you ;  isn't  it  ?" 

"  Yes,"  Euth  answered,  with  a  smile ;  "  so  I 
will  lie  down  now  and  rest  as  a  beginning.  I 
am  tired,  and  my  head  aches  badly.  I  guess 
patience  is  another  lesson  I  must  learn.  I 
have  never  been  sick  so  long  before,  and  some- 
times it  makes  me  fretful  to  look  out  of  the 
window  and  see  people  riding  and  walking  and 
looking  so  happy,  while  I  can  only  move  about 
this  one  little  room.  There !  don't  look  so 
grieved,  Aunt  Phebe.  I  only  feel  so  some- 
times, and  then  I  just  have  to  stop  and  think 
of  all  God's  mercy  to  me,  and  that  cures  me  at 
once." 

The  next  day  brought  us  a  visit  from  Alice 
and  Kitty  King.  They  had  a  good  many  bits 
'of  Ferndale  news,  and  long  accounts  of  their 


ruth's  visitors.  213 

own  doings  to  communicate  to  their  long-ab- 
sent friend. 

"  We  have  been  so  anxious  about  you  too, 
Euth,  that  nothing  has  seemed  pleasant  or 
natural  at  home.  Everybody- we  meet  inquires 
so  kindly  about  our  friend,  Miss  Allerton,  as 
if  they  expected  us  to  be  constantly  informed 
of  your  health.  How  people  seem  to  like  you, 
Euth !  It  is  queer  they  should,  isn't  it  ?"  said 
Kitty,  at  the  same  time  bestowing  an  affection- 
ate kiss  on  her  friend's  cheek  that  contradicted 
her  saucy  words. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  people  to  inquire  about 
me,  and  indeed  it  is  strange,  as  you  say,  Kitty, 
that  they  should  like  me,"  Euth  replied  in  so 
sober  a  tone  that  Kitty  quickly  answered : 

" There!  you  are  taking  me  in  earnest  and 
are  vexed,  foolish  girl !  or  else  you  are  taking 
up  Alice's  old  style  of  being  so  humble-minded 
as  to  think  herself  unworthy  of  being  loved." 
The  lively  girl  gave  a  mischievous  glance  at 
her  sister  as  she  uttered  these  words. 

Of  course  our  attention  was  thus  attracted 
to  Alice,  who  blushed  deeply,  and  so  gave  cause 
for  a  round  of  questions  from  us  all  as  to  the 
reason  of  so  much  sensitiveness. 

"  Indeed,  Kitty,  you  are  a  naughty  girl,  to 


214  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

tease  me  so,"  said  Alice,  reproachfully.  H I  will 
tell  Ruth  and  Miss  Martin  all  about  my — I 
mean  the  matter  you  refer  to — in  due  time, 
but  I  don't  want  any  help  from  you,  so  please 
hush." 

Seeing  that  Alice  was  much  in  earnest  about 
her  secret,  whatever  it  was,  we  began  talking 
of  other  things. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  opening  her  little  bag,  "here 
is  a  book  for  you,  Ruth,  that  Mr.  Leonard 
wished  me  to  give  you,  and  a  letter  also, — but 
that  I  see  is  for  Miss  Martin ;  and  here  is  a 
package  that  mother  sent  her  poor  sick  child, 
as  she  calls  you.  It  is  something  good  to  eat, 
but  I  don't  know  what.  She  said  she  hoped 
your  landlady  here  would  not  take  offence,  and 
think  it  a  hint  that  you  did  not  get  enough 
here." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  I ;  "  Mrs.  Miller  is  too 
sensible  for  that.  And  now,  young  ladies,  I  am 
going  to  leave  you  for  a  time  to  entertain  your- 
selves, while  I  go  and  read  my  letter.  You 
must  not  be  too  lively,  however,  for  Ruth  can- 
not bear  a  great  deal  yet ;  and  if  you  want  to 
go  down  to  dinner  to-day,  dear,"  I  said,  ad- 
dressing her,  "  you  must  lie  down  for  an  hour 
at  least  before  that  time." 


ruth's  visitors.  215 

"  I  will  take  care  of  her,  and  see  that  she 
obeys  you,  Miss  Martin,"  said  Alice. 

The  subject  of  Mr.  Leonard's  letter  surprised 
me  not  a  little.     He  wrote : 

"  Ever  since  my  visit  to  S my  mind  has 

been  haunted  by  one  idea,  which  I  try  to  rid 
"myself  of  in  vain.  That  dear  child,  Grace, 
whose  sad  story  you  told  me,  won  my  heart  so 
completely  that  I  desire  to  adopt  her  as  my 
own.  Of  course  I  mean  to  propose  this  only 
in  case  she  has  not  already  been  claimed  by 
some  one  having  a  right  to  her.  I  have  talked 
the  matter  over  with  my  wife,  and  she  thinks 
as  I  do — that  perhaps  the  Lord  will  allow  us  to 
bring  up  this  little  orphan  in  the  place  of  one 
of  our  lost  darlings.  I  thought  it  best  to  write 
to  you  on  the  subject,  and  request  you  to  make 
inquiries  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Miller.  Their  opinion 
and  wishes  ought  certainly  to  be  consulted, 
since  Providence  has  made  them  guardians  of 
the  child.  Please  let  me  know  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible whether  this  desire  of  mine  is  to  be 
granted  or  not." 

I  put  the  letter  aside,  thinking  it  better  to 
wait  until  evening,  when  Mr.  Miller  would  be 
at  home  and  Grace  in  bed  and  out  of  hearing, 
before  making  known  Mr.  Leonard's  proposi- 


216  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

tion.  To  mention  it  now  to  tender-hearted 
Mrs.  Miller  would  distress  her  very  much,  and 
I  knew  too  she  did  not  like  to  be  hindered  by 
any  one  coming  into  the  kitchen  when  she  was 
busy  preparing  dinner.  This  day,  in  particu- 
lar, she  was  making  extra  efforts  in  that  line, 
out  of  compliment  to  Ruth,  who  was  to  dine 
with  the  family  for  the  first  time.  As  I  was 
passing  through  the  hall  I  encountered  Grace. 

"  Please,  Miss  Martin,  come  to  the  kitchen 
door  one  minute ;  Aunt  Jane  wants  to  see  you, 
and  she  says  she  ain't  fit  to  come  up  stairs  just 
now." 

I  found  the  good  woman  busily  moving  be- 
tween the  pantry  and  stove,  her  face  very  red 
with  heat  and  her  hands  white  with  flour. 

"  I  just  wanted  to  ask  you  to  insist  on  your 
company  staying  to  dinner  with  us.  It  will 
be  all  the  pleasanter  for  Miss  Ruth,  you  know, 
and  there's  plenty  for  us  all,"  she  said,  with  a 
nod  at  a  row  of  warm  pies  on  the  table,  and  a 
glance  at  the  oven,  where  a  monstrous  turkey 
was  browning  its  sides.  "I've  got  a  real  old- 
fashioned  plum-pudding  in  the  pot,"  she  con- 
tinued with  a  gleam  of  hospitable  pleasure, 
"  and  as  I  told  John,  we  can  make  believe  it  is 
Thanksgiving  day,  seeing  we  missed  keeping 


ruth's  "VISITORS.  217 

the  real  one.  You  try  your  best,  now,  and  keep 
those  young  ladies." 

On  returning  to  Ruth's  room,  I  found  the 
sisters  putting  on  their  cloaks  with  the  inten- 
tion of  returning  home  at  once,  but  when  I 
made  known  Mrs.  Miller's  urgent  request, 
Ruth  joined  with  such  fervour  in  the  entreaty 
that  they  concluded  to  remain.  Grace  was 
there  enjoying  a  large  piece  of  candy  and  an 
unlimited  amount  of  petting  from  the  three 
girls.  Kitty  was  her  declared  favourite,  for  it 
was  discovered  that  she  could  play  cat's  cradle, 
make  a  rabbit  out  of  a  handkerchief,  and  tell 
fairy  stories  by  the  dozen. 

"  You've  got  to  live  here  always,"  exclaimed 
the  enthusiastic  child.  "I'll  ask  Aunt  Jane, 
and  I  know  she'll  let  you.  She  lets  everybody 
do  just  as  they  have  a  mind  to." 

We  had  a  very  merry  dinner-party  that  day. 
Ruth  was  the  heroine  of  the  occasion,  and  as 
such  was  waited  on  by  every  one,  and  had  the 
choicest  bits  of  everything  put  on  her  plate  by 
Mr.  Miller,  who  said  that  Dr.  Dean  had  tried 
his  kind  of  medicine  long  enough,  and  now  he 
was  going  to  see  if  he  could  not  beat  him  at  his 
own  profession. 

"Ruth  looks  as  if  she  had  needed  a  good 

19 


218  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

deal  of  doctoring  to  bring  her  thus  far  on  the 
way  to  health,"  said  Alice. 

"But,  Miss  King,  if  you  had  seen  her  a 
month  ago,  you  would  never  have  expected  to 
have  her  alive  with  us  at  this-  time,"  said  Mrs. 
Miller. 

"  Yes,  it  is  good  as  a  miracle,  young  ladies," 
Mr.  Miller  said,  with  a  grave  expression.  "  The 
Lord  himself  took  her  by  the  hand  and  restored 
her  to  life,  as  much  as  he  did  the  daughter  of 
Jairus.  She  ought  to  carry  about  with  her  a 
thankful  heart  all  the  rest  of  her  days,  be  they 
many  or  few." 

"  I  shall  be  a  most  ungrateful  creature  if  I 
ever  forget  all  that  God  has  done  for  me  here 
at  S ,"  Euth  responded,  in  a  low  tone. 

Kitty  glanced  across  the  table  at  her  in  a 
wondering  sort  of  way  that  showed  that  Euth 
had  not  spoken  of  her  late  experience  to  her 
friends. 

When  the  hour  came  for  our  guests  to  take 
their  leave,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  merry 
whispering,  which  warned  me  to  keep  my  ears 
shut.  With  the  assurance  that  we  should,  if 
Euth  continued  to  improve,  return  to  Ferndale 
the  next  week,  and  a  number  of  messages  sent 
to  friends  there,  we  bade  Alice  and  Kitty  good- 


ruth's  visitors.  219 

bye.  Then  I  darkened  the  room,  and  insisted 
that  Euth  should  lie  down  and  take  a  nap,  for 
she  was  looking  pale  and  weary,  and  then  I 
went  into  my  own  room  and  closed  the  door 
that  there  might  be  no  temptation  to  conver- 
sation. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

ALICE  KING'S  SECRET. 

OU  don't  mean  we've  got  to  let  her  go, 
Miss  Martin?" 

"  There  is  surely  no  '  got  to  '  in  the 
case,   Mrs.    Miller,  and  you  have   a 
right  to  say  '  No/  if  you  are  not  will- 
ing Mr.  Leonard  should  have  Grace." 

"  But,  Jane,  my  good  wife,  we  must  not  look 
at  this  matter  in  a  selfish  way.  If  this  gen- 
tleman offers  to  adopt  the  child  and  bring  her 
up  as  his  own,  we  have  no  right  to  refuse. 
We  can't  do  half  as  well  by  her  as  he  can,  and 
Grace  would  have  small  reason  to  thank  us  if 
our  love  for  her  made  us  stand  in  the  way  of 
her  good." 

We  were  sitting  around  the  kitchen  stove 
that  evening,  Mr.  Miller,  his  wife,  and  I,  when 
I  first  stated  to  these  worthy  friends  of  the 
little  orphan  Mr.  Leonard's  proposal  concern- 
ing her,  and  it  was  thus  they  at  first  received 
the  idea  of  parting  with  their  favourite.  Mrs. 
220  • 


ALICE  king's  secret.  221 

Miller  was,  as  I  had  anticipated,  sorely  grieved 
at  the  thought,  but  she  was  not  a  woman  to 
allow  her  own  feelings  to  interfere  with  any 
plan  for  another's  good.  After  a  few  sobs  and 
tender  expressions  about  her  little  pet,  she 
yielded  to  her  husband's  sensible  arguments. 

"  But  there's  one  thing  more  to  be  thought 
of,"  she  said,  presently.  "  Ought  we  not  to 
wait  a  little  longer  to  see  if  the  child's  own 
relations  don't  come  for  her  ?  It  would  only 
be  a  disappointment  to  the  gentleman  to  take 
Grade  home  with  him  and  get  fond  of  her,  as 
he  couldn't  help  doing,  and  then  have  to  give 
her  up." 

"Very  true,  Mrs.  Miller,"  I  said.  "Mr, 
Leonard  will  of  course  be  willing  to  wait  what- 
ever length  of  time  you  think  best." 

"  Suppose,  then,"  suggested  Mr.  Miller,  "  we 
have  an  understanding  with  the  gentleman 
that  we  wait  one  month  longer,  and  if  by  that 
time  no  one  comes  forward  to  claim  Grace,  we 
will  give  her  up  to  him.  There  is  an  allowance 
of  thirty  days  to  you,  wife,  to  do  all  the  hug- 
ging and  kissing  and  spoiling  of  the  little  one 
you  have  a  mind  to.  That  will  answer,  won't 
it?"  he  asked,  with  a  smile. 

This  suggestion  seemed  reasonable  and  sat- 

19* 


222  EUTH  ALLEETON. 

isfactory  to  all,  and  on  returning  to  my  room 
I  wrote  to  Mr.  Leonard  -accordingly.  Nothing 
was  said  to  Grace  on  the  subject,  for  there  was 
as  yet  too  much  uncertainty  about  her  future 
for  it  to  be  worth  while  to  disturb  her  little 
head  with  anticipations  j  so  she  continued  to 
run  about  the  house  at  her  pleasure,  to  say  her 
verses  to  her  friend  Euth,  to  jump  on  Mr. 
Miller's  lap  for  stories  whenever  he  sat  down 
for  a  moment's  rest,  to  coax  Lizzie  into  a  game 
of  romps  whenever  she  could  spare  time  from 
her  lessons,  and  to  tyrannize  over  her  "  aunt 
Jane  "  in  every  way  possible  from  morning  to 
night.  I  thought  sometimes  that  Mrs.  Miller 
was  seriously  adopting  her  husband's  sugges- 
tion, and  indulging  her  little  charge  to  the 
very  utmost  because  she  thought  her  opportu- 
nity would  not  last  much  longer.  Certainly 
the  number  of  toys  that  came  into  Grace's 
possession,  the  cakes  baked  for  her  special 
benefit,  the  saucers  of  dainties  that  might  be 
seen  at  almost  any  time  on  the  pantry  shelf, 
"  in  case  the  child  should  want  a  bite  between 
meals,"  were  enough  to  make  her  selfish  and 
exacting.  This  constant  petting  from  every 
member  of  the  household  did  not  fail  to  make 
Grace  consider  herself  a  person  of  much  con- 


ALICE  king's  secket.  223 

sequence,  and  she  began  to  act  as  if  she  were 
a  little  queen,  and  all  around  her  no  more 
than  her  loyal  and  rightful  subjects.  She 
was,  nevertheless,  a  sweet-tempered  child,  and 
did  not  often  abuse  her  privileges  to  any  great 
extent,  and  when  she  did  so  nobody  had  the 
heart  to  scold  her,  so  helpless,  so  dependent 
on  our  love  and  tenderness,  she  seemed. 

One  morning  Ruth  and  I  were  sitting  in 
her  room,  she  engaged  in  crocheting  with 
bright  worsteds  a  mat  for  our  parlour-table  at 
Ferndale,  and  I  busied  with  the  more  prosaic 
work  of  darning  stockings.  We  had  sat  thus 
for  some  time  silently  pursuing  our  labours, 
when  Euth  said :  "  Auntie,  I  have  never  told 
you  Alice's  secret.  I  wonder  you  have  not 
asked  about  it,  for  you  could  not  help  seeing 
there  was  something  unusual  on  her  mind 
when  she  blushed  so  and  was  so  afraid  Kitty 
would  betray  her.  You  have  not  any  curios- 
ity, auntie  dear." 

"'Oh  yes,  I  have,"  I  answered,  laughing, 
"  but  I  supposed  Alice  did  not  wish  to  confide 
her  secret,  whatever  it  was,  to  me,  and  so  I 
have  asked  no  questions." 

"But,"  said  Euth,  "she  does  wish  you  to 
know ;  she  was  too  shy  to  talk  of  it  before  you, 


224  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

but  she  told  me  I  might  tell  you  all  about  it 
after  she  had  gone." 

"  Well,  then,  what  is  '  it '  ?"  I  inquired,  with 
sufficient  interest  to  satisfy  my  companion. 

"Why,  auntie,  Alice  is  engaged  to  be 
married.  Just  think  of  that !  who  would  sup- 
pose our  Alice  ever  thought  of  such  a  thing 
as  getting  married  ?" 

"It  is  not  a  very  strange  occurrence,  my 
dear,  that  a  young  lady  like  Alice  should 
think  of  that  subject,  and  even  in  due  time 
act  upon  such  thoughts.  You  used  to  fancy, 
when  you  both  were  little  girls,  that  Alice  was 
certain  to  become  a  remarkable  person  and 
do  some  greater  work  than  most  girls  under- 
take in  this  world.  Are  you  disappointed  in 
her?" 

"Oh  no,  not  just  that,  auntie;"  but  the 
answer  came  so  slowly  that  I  suspected  Euth 
was  in  a  measure  disappointed  that  Alice  was 
to  fulfil  no  higher  vocation  than  that  of  most 
women.  "'But  you  know,"  she  continued, 
"  Alice  has  always  been  so  much  wiser  and  so 
much  better  than  either  Kitty  or  myself  that 
I  was  sure  she  would  become  an  author  or 
a  missionary,  or  something  else  great  and 
good." 


ALICE  king's  secret.  225 

"  You  have  not  told  me  yet  how  it  is  that 
she  has  failed  of  all  these  high  hopes  of  yours," 
I  said. 

"  Do  you  remember  a  young  minister  that 
preached  for  Mr.  Leonard  last  summer  the 
two  Sundays  that  he  was  absent  on  his  va- 
cation?" 

"  Yes,  I  remember  that  I  liked  his  sermons 
very  much,  and  that  he  had  an  earnest  man- 
ner of  speaking,  as  if  he  knew  what  souls 
were  worth,  and  was  eager  to  be  made  an  in- 
strument in  saving  them." 

"Ah,  auntie,  I  am  afraid  that  I  thought 
very  little  then  about  his  sermons  or  his  earn- 
estness, but  he  had  a  pleasant  face  and  voice, 
and  I  was,  on  the  whole,  favourably  impressed 
with  him.  He  is  a  nephew  of  Mr.  Leonard's, 
I  find,  and  his  name  is  West — Edgar  West, 
I  believe." 

"  Did  Alice  become  acquainted  with  him  at 
the  time  he  preached  at  Ferndale  ?" 

"  Yes,  we  were  all  of  us  introduced  to  him 
then,  but  I  did  not  know  until  the  other  day 
that  he  had  since  then  paid  a  visit  to  his  uncle, 
and  then  gained  Alice's  consent  to  become  his 
wife.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  King  are  much  pleased 
with  him — at  least,  so  Alice  says.  I  suppose 
p 


226  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

she  sees  her  friend  in  a  rose-coloured  light  and 
thinks  every  one  must." 

"Why,  Kuth,  Euth,  one  would  think  you 
we're  actually  cross  with  poor  Alice  for  being 
happy  in  any  other  way  than  that  your  own 
imagination  had  marked  out  for  her.  Is  Mr. 
West  in  charge  of  a  parish?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  he  is  settled  over  a  little  con- 
gregation away  out  in  Oregon.  He  works  very 
hard,  not  only  among  his  own  people,  but  for 
miles  around,  preaching  and  visiting  wherever 
and  whenever  he  finds  opportunity.  He  has 
to  live  very  plainly  and  undergo  many  hard- 
ships, and  has  a  salary  barely  sufficient  for  his 
support.  Alice  will  find  it  a  great  change  from 
her  pleasant  home,  I  guess." 

"From  what  you  say,  Euth,  it  is  evident 
that  Alice  will  have  great  opportunities  of  use- 
fulness in  the  Saviour's  cause  as  the  wife  of 
an  earnest  preacher  of  the  gospel  in  such  a 
parish.  It  grieves  me  to  find  that,  even  with 
your  new  views  of  life  and  its  duties,  you 
should  have  any  higher  ambition  for  your  be- 
loved Alice  than  to  see  her  thus  actively  en- 
gaged in  serving  the  Lord." 

Euth  did  not  answer  for  some  moments; 
then  she  said : 


ALICE  king's  secret.  227 

"  Auntie,  I  see  I  have  not  looked  at  the 
matter  as  a  Christian  should.  ■  I  was  only  think- 
ing that  all  Alice's  talents  would  be  thrown 
away.  You  know  what  a  fine  musician  she  is, 
and  how  thoroughly  she  has  mastered  every 
branch  of  study  she  has  taken  up.  I  thought 
she  ought  to  make  herself  distinguished  in 
some  way  and  do  some  great  work  for  God." 

"  Do  you  remember,  dear,  that  sweet  hymn, 

'  I  would  not  have  the  restless  will 

That  hurries  to  and  fro, 
Seeking  for  some  great  thing  to  do, 
Or  secret  thing  to  know '  ? 

There  is  another  couplet  that  contains  a  whole 
sermon  in  it : 

'  Careful  not  to  serve  thee  much, 
But  to  serve  thee  perfectly? 

We  must  not  fall  into  the  common  error  of 
Christians,  of  aiming  at  some  glorious  work 
for  ourselves  or  others,  by  which  to  serve  the 
Lord.  We  must  not  yearn  after  martyrdom 
such  as  the  early  disciples  endured,  nor  desire 
to  set  the  world  on  fire  by  preaching  or  writing 
some  new  and  exciting  theory.  Christ  wants 
us  to  let  our  light  shine  just  where  he  sees  fit 
to  place  us  ;  and  if  that  happens  to  be  in  some 


228  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

out-of-the-way  corner,  where  it  seems  as  if 
very  few  could  see  how  brightly  we  shine,  no 
matter  !  "We  are  not  to  be  held  responsible  for 
anything  at  all  but  how  we  shine  for  him." 

"  Then  it  is  wrong,  is  it,  Aunt  Phebe,  to  be 
ambitious  in  matters  of  religion  ?" 

"I  think  so,  dear;  but  read  for  yourself  that 
account  of  the  ambition  of  the  twelve  disciples, 
and  how  such  a  spirit  was  checked  by  Christ — 
Mark  ix.  33-38." 

Euth  opened  her  Bible  and  read  the  passage, 
then  said : 

"  But,  auntie,  that  was  not  just  what  I 
meant.  The  disciples  seemed  to  have  a  sort  of 
rivalry  as  to  who  should  be  greatest.  Now, 
what  I  desired  for  Alice  was,  not  that  she  should 
outshine  others,  but  that  she  might  have  a 
position  in  life  where  she  might  use  her  talents 
to  the  best  advantage." 

"Well,  my  dear,  the  Lord  who  gave  those 
talents  will  take  care  that  opportunities  are 
not  wanting  in  which  she  may  exercise  them 
to  his  honour  and  glory.  That  poor  little  parish 
out  in  Oregon  will  no  doubt  bring  into  prac- 
tice all  Alice's  best  gifts,  and  I  foresee  that  as 
the  wife  of  a  humble,  hard-working  minister 
she  will  do  more  good  in  the  world  than  by 


ALICE  king's  secret.  229 

passing  the  remainder  of  her  life  in  cultivated 
and  appreciative  society,  or  even  by  writing  a 
book." 

The  day  came  at  last  for  our  return  to  Fern- 
dale.  Euth  was  still  feeble,  and  likely  to  con- 
tinue so  until  the  milder  weather  of  spring 
should  make  it  possible  for  her  to  spend  much 
time  in  the  open  air;  so  said  the  physician. 
It  was  hard  to  part  from  our  friends,  the 
Millers.  The  debt  of  gratitude  which  Euth 
owed  them,  first  for  the  preservation  of  her  life, 
as  far  as  human  means  were  employed,  and 
then  for  their  faithful  and  untiring  care  of  her 
during  these  many  weeks  of  illness,  was  more 
than  she  could  ever  hope  to  repay.  When  she 
expressed  this  feeling  to  Mr.  Miller  the  morn- 
ing before  we  left  S ,  he  silenced  her  by 

saying : 

"  Just  you  thank  the  Lord,  my  dear  young 
lady — thank  the  Lord,"  he  repeated,  "and 
trust  him  to  pay  all  your  debts  to  us ;  he'll  do 
it,  never  you  fear." 

The  journey  home  was  a  short  one,  but  still 
very   fatiguing   to   Euth.      "  I   had   no   idea 

Ferndale  was  so  far  from  S ,"  she  said 

again  and  again  as  we  passed  the  different 
stopping-places  on  the  way. 
20 


230  EUTH  ALLEKTON. 

"  It  seems  far  to  you,  my  dear,  because  you 
are  weak  and  easily  tired.  That  is  the  way 
with  more  things  in  this  world  than  travel- 
ling; they  are  far  or  near,  easy  or  difficult, 
just  according  to  the  strength  we  have  to 
bear  them." 

At  last  the  conductor  pronounced  the  wel- 
come word,  "  Ferndale."  Euth  glanced  from 
the  car- window,  and  exclaimed,  "  Why,  there 
is  Charlie  King  !  I  wonder  what  has  brought 
him  home  at  this  time  ?" 

Not  only  was  Charlie  King  at  the  depot  to 
meet  us,  but  a  large  group  of  friends,  all  eager 
to  be  first  in  welcoming  Euth  home  again,  and 
to  congratulate  her  on  her  narrow  escape  from 
death.  Mr.  Leonard  was  there  with  a  car- 
riage. 

"  They  may  all  have  a  chance  to  speak  to 
you,  Euth,"  said  he,  "  but  I  claim  the  priv- 
ilege of  driving  you  and  Miss  Martin  home." 
When  we  were  seated  in  the  carriage,  and  the 
horse's  head  turned  towards  home,  he  said : 

"  I  had  ever  so  many  questions  to  ask  this 
dear  child  about  her  health  and  other  matters, 
but  she  looks  so  pale  and  tired  I  must  put 
them  off  till  another  time.  Tell  me,  please, 
Miss  Martin,  how  fares  it  with  little  Grace  ? 


ALICE  king's  secret.  231 

Has- anything  been  heard  yet  from  her  friends 
or  relations  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  I  replied.  "  You  still  wish  to 
adopt  her,  do  you,  sir,  if  no  such  claim  is 
made  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  fairly  long  for  the  month  to  end 
that  is  to  decide  the  question.  Mrs.  Leonard 
and  I  have  begun  already  to  make  plans  for 
the  welfare  of  our  adopted  daughter." 

"  She  is  a  lovely  child,"  I  said,  "  but  she  is 
wilful,  and  has  other  little  faults  natural  to 
her  age.  I  fear  you  will  find  the  manage- 
ment of  such  a  child  a  serious  undertaking." 

"We  are  prepared  for  all  that,"  he  said, 
with  a  smile.  "  We  don't  expect  Grace  to  be 
a  piece  of  perfection.  But,"  he  added,  more 
seriously,  "  it  has  been  a  great  desire  of  my 
heart  to  train  up  one  child  for  the  Lord.  He 
did  not  see  it  best  to  spare  any  of  our  own 
dear  ones,  but  now,  in  my  old  age,  he  is  about 
to  grant  me  the  wish  of  so  many  years." 

As  we  neared  the  spot  Euth  had  learned 
to  love  as  home,  we  saw  Eose  and  Mary  Jane 
Harris  standing  at  the  gate  watching  for  us. 
Mary  Jane  was  a  large,  stout  girl  now,  but 
her  plain,  freckled  face  had  changed  very  little 
since  we  first  became  acquainted  with  it,  when 


232  RUTH   ALLEETON. 

she  stood  years  before,  in  our  kitchen,  a  hun- 
gry, sad  child,  begging  for  help  for  her  mother. 
Mrs.  Harris  had,  by  patient  working  at  the 
wash-tub  and  the  needle,  won  for  herself  and 
her  daughter  a  comfortable  home  and  the  es- 
teem of  all  the  ladies  who  had  employed  her. 
Mary  Jane,  too,  had  borne  her  share  of  the 
burden,  and  had  been  out  at  service  for  some 
years  past.  Her  early  attachment  to  Miss 
Euth  had  only  strengthened  with  time,  and 
now,  as  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  old  friend, 
the  tears  came  into  her  eyes,  and  her  "  Wel- 
come home  to  ye,  Miss  Euth,"  shouted  even 
before  the  horse  had  fairly  stopped,  had  a  very 
tremulous  sound  about  it. 

"  The  dear  old  home !  how  changed  things 
seem  since  I  left  it !  and  yet  it  is  only  a  few 
months  since  then." 

This  was  Euth's  first  remark  after  Mr. 
Leonard  drove  off,  and  she  was  ascending  the 
steps,  leaning  on  my  arm.  Mary  Jane  and 
Eose  had  run  on  ahead  with  our  travelling- 
bags  and  shawls. 

"  Yet  the  place  itself  is  exactly  the  same," 
I  said;  "it  is  yourself  that  has  changed  so 
much,  dear." 

"I  know  it,  auntie;  oh  how  good  God  has 


ALICE  king's  secret.  233 

been  to  me  !  I  left  Ferndale  a  giddy,  thought- 
less creature,  and  he  has  brought  me  back 
with  a  new  lease  of  life,  as  Mr.  Miller  said,  and, 
I  hope,  a  new  heart  to  serve  him  with." 

I  made  the  tired  girl  lie  down  to  rest,  and 
forbade  her  coming  out  of  her  room,  no  matter 
who  should  call  to  see  her,  until  evening. 
Some  hours  later  the  door-bell  rang,  and  I 
stepped  into  the  hall  just  in  time  to  hear  Rose 
dismissing  some  guests  with  the  assurance  that 
Miss  Allerton  was  very  tired,  and  had  just 
fallen  asleep.  Finding  that  the  callers  were 
Charlie  and  Kitty  King,  I  hastened  to  the 
door  to  ask  them  in. 

"  If  you  will  stay  and  take  tea  with  us,"  I 
said,  "  and  promise  to  do  all  the  talking  your- 
selves, you  may  see  Euth,  but  only  on  those 
conditions." 

"We  will  be  happy  to  stay,  won't  we, 
Kitty?"  said  Charlie,  with  the  same  frank, 
genial  manner  that  had  characterized  him  as 
a.  boy.  "  I  know  Miss  Martin  has  some  good 
cake  for  tea,  for  Rose  came  in  this  morning  to 
ask  mother  for  a  recipe." 

"  For  shame,  Charlie  !  I  think  Miss  Martin 
ought  to  send  you  home  again  after  such  a 
speech !"  said  Kitty. 
20* 


234  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

"  Miss  Martin  knows  that  I  care  more  for 
good  company  than  for  cake,  and  she  will  do 
no  such  thing." 

"You  are  nothing  but  a  boy  yet,  Charlie 
King,  in  spite  of  your  six  feet  and  your  whis- 
kers," said  I.  "  But  what  brings  you  home  just 
now,  when  all  industrious  young  men  should 
be  attending  to  business?" 

"  Oh,  did  not  the  girls  tell  you  the  other 
day  ?  But  I  suppose  they  were  so  busy  talk- 
ing of  their  own  affairs  that  they  never  thought 
of  their  brother,"  said  Charlie,  mischievously. 
I  have  given  up  my  position  in  New  Haven  for 
a  better  one  that  has  been  offered  me  in  New 
York,  and  as  I  am  not  expected  there  for  ten 
days  yet,  I  have  been  indulging  in  a  pleasant 
vacation  at  home." 

"  Will  it  not  be  grand,"  said  Kitty,  "  to  have 
Charlie  living  in  New  York,  so  that  when  we 
girls  go  there  on  a  visit  we  shall  be  sure  of  an 
escort  everywhere  ?" 

"  No  doubt,"  Charlie  answered,  with  a  shake 
of  his  head,  "  you  expect  to  make  me  very  use- 
ful ;  mother  does  not  think  it-  will  be  so  grand, 
however." 

"Does  not  your  mother  approve  of  this 
change  ?"  I  inquired. 


ALICE  king's  secret.  235 

"  So  far  as  the  business  opportunity  is  con- 
cerned she  does,  ma'am,  but  mother  is  afraid 
of  the  numerous  temptations  that  a  city  life 
offers  to  young  men.  I  tell  her  that  is  all  non- 
sense, and  that  she  ought  to  have  more  faith  in 
me  than  to  suppose  I  shall  get  into  mischief." 

"  Ah,  Charlie !  '  let  him  that  thinketh  he 
standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall.'  You  have 
always  been  a  good  boy,  I  know,  but  something 
more  is  needed  than  natural  kindness  of  heart 
and  uprightness  to  withstand  the  wiles  and 
snares  to  which  you  will  be  exposed  in  a  large 
city.  If  I  knew  that  you  were  going  from  us 
to  meet  these  in  the  strength  of  your  mother's 
God,  I  should  feel  less  anxiety  on  your  account." 

The  young  man  looked  grave  when  I  spoke 
thus,  but  made  no  answer.  The  religion  of  his 
mother  and  sister  Alice  was  something  lovely 
in  his  eyes,  but  he  had  not  yet  thought  of  the 
subject  as  one  in  which  he  was  personally 
concerned. 

Euth  joined  us  at  the  tea-table,  looking 
much  refreshed  by  her  long  rest.  There  was 
no  lack  of  conversation  during  the  meal,  for 
the  young  people  had  all  much  to  tell  and  to 
ask  after  the  long  separation.  Euth  was  called 
upon  to  give  all  the  particulars  of  her  accident, 


236  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

and  Charlie  to  tell  over  again  the  circumstances 
of  his  leaving  New  Haven,  and  enter  into  all 
the  details  of  his  prospects  and  plans  for  the 
future.  Kitty  sat  an  interested  listener  while 
her  brother  and  friend  talked  over  their  recent 
experiences.    With  mock  seriousness,  she  said : 

"It  is  only  you  and  I,  Miss  Martin,  who 
have  nothing  to  tell.  If  Alice  were  here  she 
would  have  the  best  story  of  all,  but  poor  me ! 
I  have  had  neither  an  accident,  nor  a  lover,  nor 
a  business  offer.  It  is  rather  hard  to  be  so 
neglected  by  fortune,  isn't  it  ?" 

Here  Charlie  passed  his  cup  to  be  refilled, 
and  made  some  funny  comment  on  Kitty's 
speech,  which  did  not  prevent  my  hearing 
Kuth's  earnest  whisper  to  her  friend : 

"The  best  experience  of  all  that  I  have 
passed  through,  dear  Kitty,  is  open  to  you  as 
well.  Oh,  if  you  would  only  give  your  heart 
to  Jesus!" 

Kitty  did  not  answer  this  appeal — indeed, 
there  was  no  chance  for  any  reply  without 
being  overheard — and  we  very  soon  rose  from 
the  table.  We  passed  an  hour  or  two  in  the 
parlour  listening  to  Kitty's  new  pieces  which 
she  had  learned  during  Euth's  absence  and 
discussing  plans  for  the  next  few  days;  "For," 


ALICE  king's  secret.  237 

said  Charlie,  "  we  must  be  together  and  have 
all  the  good  times  possible  before  I  go  away. 
All  work  and  no  play  must  be  my  programme 
,  for  many  a  long  day,  I  am  afraid." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AN  EVENING  AT  THE  PARSONAGE. 

P)  S  far  as  she  was  able,  Ruth  took  part  in 
2  the  sleigh-rides,  the  little  social  gath- 
erings at  Mrs.  King's,  and  all  the 
amusements  which  were  contrived  to 
render  the  remainder  of  Charlie's  visit 
pleasant.  Ferndale  was  a  quiet  place,  and  the 
young  people  had  not  much  variety  of  amuse- 
ment during  the  winter  season.  The  principal 
attractions  were  a  reading  society,  where  all 
the  new  books  that  could  be  obtained  were  dis- 
cussed, the  sewing-circle,  and  an  occasional  tea- 
party.  Mr.  Leonard  had  a  custom,  regarded 
with  much  favour  by  the  young  folks  under  his 
charge,  of  opening  the  parsonage  doors  one 
evening  in  each  fortnight  to  all  the  boys  and 
girls  of  his  flock.  Nobody  knew  how  to  enter- 
tain them  as  acceptably  as  the  aged  pastor ; 
the  wonder  was,  how  he  contrived  to  find  so 
many  interesting   matters  to   talk  about,  so 

238 


AN  EVENING  AT  THE  PARSONAGE.   239 

many  curious  works  of  nature  and  art  to  show 
them,  such  charming  methods  of  making  the 
young  folks  happy,  and  at  the  same  time  lead- 
ing their  hearts  upwards  to  the  Giver  of  all  true 
joy.  One  of  these  receptions  took  place  the 
week  after  our  return. 

"  I  want  to  go  so  very  much,  auntie!"  was 
Ruth's  beseeching  rejoinder  to  the  doubt  I  ex- 
pressed as  to  her  having  strength  enough  to 
spend  the  evening  in  company  without  being 
made  ill  by  it. 

"  Will  you  promise  to  sit  still  all  the  time, 
and  be  very  prudent?"  I  asked. 

She  gave  the  required  promise,  so  I  bundled 
her  up  as  in  the  days  when  I  called  her  my 
African  sensitive  plant,  and  let  her  go  in  com- 
pany with  our  young  neighbours,  Alice  as 
usual  taking  upon  herself  the  responsibility  of 
looking  after  the  dear  invalid,  to  see  that  she 
did  not  exert  herself  too  much  during  the 
evening. 

That  it  had  been  too  great  an  effort  for  the 
weak  frame  was  shown  by  her  heavy  eyes  and 
languid  movements  all  the  next  day.  When 
Alice  came  in  during  the  afternoon  with  her 
work-basket  to  have  a  friendly  chat,  she  found 
Ruth  lying  on  the  sofa,  complaining  of  head- 


240  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

ache,  but  still  apparently  much  interested  in 
the  book  she  held. 

"What  have  you  there?"  Alice  asked  as 
soon  as  she  had  laid  aside  her  wrappings  and 
seated  herself  comfortably  with  her  needle  in 
motion.  "If  it  is  something  new  and  worth 
the  reading,  you  must  lend  it  to  me  when  you 
have  finished." 

Ruth  held  the  book  towards  her  by  way  of 
answer,  and  Alice  read  aloud  the  title :  "  Lives 
of  Eminent  Missionaries." 

"  Last  evening,  you  know,  I  sat  a  long  time 
in  the  study  looking  over  the  books ;  of  course 
I  did  not  dare  move  about  like  the  rest  while 
I  had  Aunt  Phebe's  commands  and  your 
Argus  eyes  upon  me.  While  you  were  all 
playing  that  game  in  the  other  room,  Mr. 
Leonard  came  and  sat  down  by  me.  He 
talked  about  that  terrible  accident,  and  asked 
me  to  tell  him  all  I  could  remember  about  it. 
I  did  so,  and  then,  after  a  few  minutes'  silence, 
he  asked  me  if  I  remembered  the  day  he  first 
saw  me,  and  the  account  I  gave  then  of  the 
way  they  used  to  spend  Thanksgiving  day  in 
our  African  mission.  Do  you-  remember  that 
conversation,  Aunt  Phebe  ?"  said  Ruth,  look- 
ing over  to  me. 


AN  EVENING  AT  THE  PARSONAGE.   241 

"  Perfectly,  my  dear,"  said  I,  "  if  you  mean 
the  one  which  led  to  your  telling  us  about  the 
thank-offerings  of  the  Christian  natives.  That 
was  the  occasion  of  your  resolving  to  earn 
money  to  give  to  the  poor  as  your  thank- 
offering  to  the  Lord,  if  I  am  not  mistaken. 
Was  it  not?" 

"  It  was,  auntie ;  and  it  was  about  my 
thank-offering  that  Mr.  Leonard  spoke.  He 
said  he  thought  so  very  marked  a  preserva- 
tion from  death  as  mine  has  been  was  a  direct 
call  from  God  to  devote  myself  to  his  service 
in  a  special  manner.  He  told  me  about  dear 
mamma's  self-denying  love  for  souls,  and  bade 
me  follow  in  her  steps.  A  good  deal  more  he 
said,  but  I  cannot  repeat  it  all,  and  when  he 
left  me  to  join  the  group  in  the  parlour,  he 
repeated  the  text,  '  What  shall  I  render  unto 
the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  toward  me  ?'  and 
said,  '  Keep  that  question  before  your  mind, 
Kuth,  until  you  have  answered  it  to  yourself 
and  your  God  in  such  a  way  as  shall  give  you 
most  satisfaction  in  looking  backward  from 
your  dying  hour.' " 

Ruth  had  risen  from  the  sofa  while  she 
spoke,  and  now  stood  between  Alice  and  me, 
looking  so  earnestly  into  our  faces  that  I  felt 

21  Q 


242  RUTH   ALLEETON. 

sure  the  pastor's  words  had  made  a  very  deep 
impression  on  her  heart. 

"  Did  Mr.  Leonard  think  you  ought  to  be- 
come a  foreign  missionary,  that  he  gave  you 
this  book  to  read?"  asked  Alice,  who  had 
taken  up  the  volume  and  was  glancing  over 
the  headings  of  the  various  chapters. 

"  No,  he  did  not  say  a  word  about  it,"  said 
Ruth,  "  but  after  he  left  me  I  went  and  stood 
in  a  corner  of  the  study  by  the  bookcase, 
more  by  way  of  collecting  my  thoughts  before 
I  joined  the  company  than  from  any  desire  to 
look  over  the  books,  but  my  eye  fell  on  this 
one,  and  I  asked  Mr.  Leonard  if  I  might  bring 
it  home  to  read — not  that  I  expect  to  be  a  mis- 
sionary, Alice  dear,  but  because  I  wanted  to 
find  out  more  about  that  spirit  of  self-sacrifice 
and  love  for  Christ  which  prompted  such 
people  as  Henry  Martyn,  Harriet  Newell,  the 
Judsons,  and  others,  to  undergo  such  great 
trials  for  the  sake  of  the  heathen.  I  have  no 
expectation  of  doing  as  they  did,  but  at  least 
I  ought  to  work  with  their  motive." 

Alice  and  I  were  silent,  for  we  hardly  knew 
what  reply  to  make.  Noticing  this,  Ruth 
continued,  presently : 

"I  am  doing  all  the  talking,  and  it  is  all 


AN  EVENING  AT  THE  PARSONAGE.   243 

about  myself.  Forgive  me  for  doing  so  this 
once,  auntie  and  Alice,  for  I  wanted  you  two 
to  know  just  how  I  feel,  that  you  might  advise 
me  and  pray  for  me." 

"  Pray  for  you  I  certainly  will,  darling," 
Alice  said,  with  much  tenderness  in  her  voice, 
and  at  the  same  time  drawing  Ruth's  aching 
head  to  a  resting-place  on  her  shoulder;  "but 
as  to  the  advice,  I  am  too  young  in  Christian 
experience  to  give  it  to  any  one,  especially  to 
you,  who  are  going  so  far  beyond  me  in  the 
heavenly  race.  Miss  Martin  and  Mr.  Leonard 
will  be  wise  counsellors." 

"  As  for  me,  Ruth,"  I  said,  "  I  will  join 
Alice  in  promising  to  pray  for  you.  As  for 
advice,  the  kind  you  need  is  only  to  be  ob- 
tained on  your  knees  before  the  Lord.  If  you 
recognize  in  your  new  lease  of  life,  as  our 
friend  Mr.  Miller  calls  it,  a  call  to "  some  spe- 
cial work,  be  sure  that  in  due  time  God  will 
show  you  exactly  what  it  is.  Do  not  try  to 
hurry  on  his  plans." 

"  I  almost  fear  it  is  my  old  self-conceit  that 
makes  me  dare  to  think  Grod  can  mean  to  give 
me  anything  in  particular  to  do  for  him,"  said 
Ruth.  "  Tell  me,  Aunt  Phebe,  is  it  wrong  ? 
am  I  mistaken  ?" 


244  EUTH   ALLEETON.' 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  dear  child,"  I  answered. 
"  I  do  not  see  any  evidence  of  self-conceit  in 
the  matter;  still,  you  must  watch  your  mo- 
tives narrowly,  and  be  determined  to  have  a 
single  eye  to  Grod's  glory,  and  for  the  rest,  as 
I  said  before,  only  wait  on  him  continually, 
and  he  will  surely  make  known  to  you  his 
will  in  due  time." 

"  What  a  change  has  come  over  Ruth  !"  said 
Alice  to  me,  as  I  accompanied  her  to  the  door, 
when  taking  her  leave.  "  I  heard  her  ask 
Mr.  Leonard  if  he  would  trust  her  with  a  class 
of  children  in  Sunday-school  when  she  should 
be  well  enough  to  be  out  regularly  on  Sundays. 
Don't  you  think  she  is  very  much  in  earnest 
in  her  efforts  to  be  a  Christian  ?" 

"I  do,  indeed,  Alice,"  I  replied.  "With 
Euth  there  is  no  halfway.  I  feared,  a  few 
months  ago,  that  she  was  being  drawn,  heart 
and  mind,  into  worldly  pleasures,  but  by  Go'd's 
grace  she  has  become  a  new  creature  indeed. 
We  must  faithfully  keep  our  promise  to  pray 
for  her,  Alice." 

"  I  will  do  so,  Miss  Martin,  but  I  am  sorely 
afraid  the  answer  to  our  prayers  will  be  the 
taking  dear  Ruth  away  from  us.  You  will 
feel  glad  if  the  Lord  honours  you  by  taking 


AN  EVENING  AT  THE  PARSONAGE.   245 

another  missionary  from  your  family,  I  am 
sure." 

Alice  did  not  wait  for  my  answer,  but 
tripped  down  the  steps,  and  was  soon  out  of 
sight,  on.  her  way  home.  It  was  not  easy  to 
assure  myself  that  I  would  be  glad  to  have 
another  dear  one  taken  from  my  lonely  home, 
as  my  sister  Lucy  had  been.  Euth  had  of 
late  years  seemed  so  like  her  mother,  had 
grown  into  my  very  life  so,  that  I  thought, 
with  far  less  submission  and  self-denial  in  my 
heart  than  these  two  younger  Christians  ex- 
hibited, of  the  possible  sundering  of  this  tie 
by  that  call  which  seemed  about  to  be  given — 
"  Come  work  in  my  vineyard  !" — by  the  Lord 
to  his  now  willing  and  waiting  child. 

Ruth  and  I  were  day  by  day  watching  for 
the  African  mail.  I  had  lately  disclosed  to 
her  the  uncertain  state  of  her  dear  father's 
health,  and  the  probability  of  his  coming  to 
America  the  next  summer  in  case  he  grew 
no  better.  She  was  not  so  much  saddened  by 
the  news  as  I  had  anticipated,  and  rather 
wondered  at  the  anxiety  I  could  not  entirely 
conceal. 

"Just  think,  auntie,  how  much  good  this 
trip  on  the  coast  may  do !  If  father  writes 
21* 


246  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

that  it  has  benefitted  him  so  that  he  can  re- 
main longer  at  his  work,  that  will,  I  am  sure, 
be  good  news.  If  he  is  not  helped  by  it,  why, 
then  he  will  soon  come  to  America,  and  oh 
how  delightful  that  will  be !  The  long  sea- 
voyage  will  surely  restore  him  to  his  usual 
health,  and  even  if  ho  is  feeble  when  he  gets 
here,  we  will  nurse  him  so  skilfully  that  he 
can't  help  getting  well  soon,  won't  we,  Aunt 
Phebe  ?" 

Euth  grew  fairly  jubilant  over  the  thought 
of  seeing  her  father  again ;  indeed,  as  I  some- 
times told  her,  it  appeared  as  if  she  really 
hoped  his  present  journey  would  not  do  him 
all  the  good  he  expected,  so  that  he  might  be 
obliged  to  come  home  for  a  visit.  As  I  have 
said,  we  waited  impatiently  for  the  March 
mail  to  be  due.  It  was  a  long  time  to  wait 
for  news  of  a  loved  one :  a  whole  month,  and 
often  two,  elapsed  between  the  letters. 

Euth  visited  the  post-office  with  great  regu- 
larity, and  at  last,  when  we  had  begun  to  fear 
Mr.  Allerton  had  been  too  ill  to  write,  she 
came  in  one  afternoon  with  a  face  so  radiant 
that  I  did  not  need  the  sight  of  the  well- 
marked  and  travel-soiled  envelope  to  assure 
me  that  the  epistle  had  come.     She  glanced 


AN  EVENING  AT  THE  TARSONAGE.   247 

over  the  pages  hastily,  and  passed  the  letter  to 
me. 

"  I  have  not  my  glasses  here,  dear,  so  just 
tell  me  what  your  father  has  to  say." 

"He  is  better,"  said  Ruth,  " only  not  so 
strong  as  he  would  like.  He  thinks  he  will 
try  for  another  month,  working  only  in  a  lazy 
fashion,  as  he  says,  and  if  by  that  time  he  feels 
no  better,  he  has  resolved  on  coming  home  by 
the  very  first  opportunity.  That  is  all  he  says 
about  himself,"  she  continued,  in  a  satisfied 
tone,  "sol  guess  dear  papa  is,  after  all,  not  so 
ill  as  we  feared,  only  I  hope  he  will  find  that 
working  does  not  agree  with  him,  so  that  he 
will  have  to  come  home  this  year." 

"  What  does  papa  think  of  his  little  daugh- 
ter's narrow  escape  from  death  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  The  letter  is  almost  entirely  on  that  sub- 
ject, auntie.  He  feels  too  grateful  at  having 
me  spared  to  him  to  talk  about  anything 
else,  so  he  says.  Ah,  Aunt  Phebe,  it  dis- 
tresses me  sometimes  to  think  how  much  papa 
loves  me.  It  is  so  many  years  since  he  went 
back  to  Africa  that  he  cannot  remember  my 
faults,  so  he  imagines  that  I  have  grown  to 
be  all  that  he  could  wish ;  he  often  writes  as 
if  he  fancied  me  to  resemble  dear  mamma 


248  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

very  much,  and  how  disappointed  he  will  be 
when  he  sees  me  as  I  am !" 

Ruth  sighed,  and  all  the  gladness  vanished 
from  her  face,  as  this  thought  came  across  her 
mind.  I  did  not  tell  her  my  opinion  in  the 
case,  but  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  such  a 
fear  as  I  looked  at  the  graceful  girl  before 
me,  whose  ever-attractive  features  had  lately 
been  touched  with  an  expression  such  as  the 
old  painters  tried  to  impress  on  the  faces  of 
their  Madonnas  and  female  saints.  No  dan- 
ger of  Mr.  Allerton  being  disappointed  with 
the  outward  appearance  of  his  daughter,  and 
since  those  truthful  eyes  were  really  an  index 
to  the  feelings  uppermost  in  Ruth's  heart,  he 
would  be  an  exacting  parent  should  he  fail  to 
be  satisfied  with  her  character.  Somebody 
will  laugh  at  this  description,  and  say  that 
Aunt  Phebe  was  a  partial  old  woman  and 
thought  her  niece  perfection.  Not  so ;  there 
were  plenty  of  faults  still  left  in  my  Ruth. 
As  a  child  she  had  been  selfish  and  conceited 
and  thoughtless :  in  early  girlhood  these  fail- 
ings had  only  taken  new  forms,  and  had  shown 
themselves  in  different  ways ;  but  now,  in  her 
new  life  as  a  disciple  of  the  humble,  self-deny- 
ing Saviour  to  whose  service  she  had  publicly 


AN  EVENING  AT  THE  PARSONAGE.   249 

pledged  herself  the  first  Sunday  after  return- 
ing to  Ferndale,  she  was  thoroughly  engaged 
in  waging  war  against  these  enemies.  They 
were  not  conquered  yet,  nor  perhaps  ever 
would  be  so  entirely  as  not  to  show  them- 
selves at  unguarded  moments  and  under  sud- 
den temptations,  but  they  were  becoming  less 
and  less  powerful  as  the  Holy  Spirit  gained 
more  thorough  possession  of  her  heart's 
throne. 

Week  after  week  glided  by  with  little  of  in- 
cident to  mark  the  time  in  our  quiet  country 
neighbourhood,  if  we  except  the  two  events  of 
Charlie  King's  departure  to  the  scene  of  his 
new  business  engagement  and  the  arrival  of 
Grace  Leonard — for  so  our  little  orphan  friend 
was  henceforth  to  be  called — at  her  adopted 
father's  home.  It  was  touching  to  see  the  en- 
joyment of  the  two  old  people  in  making  little 
arrangements  for  the  child's  comfort.  A  small 
room,  leading  off  their  own  bed-room,  had  been 
newly  furnished,  and  the  bright  carpet  and 
pretty  curtains,  as  well  as  the  style  of  the 
painted  furniture,  were  all  selected  with  regard 
to  the  probable  taste  of  their  expected  owner. 
I  called  at  the  parsonage  the  very  day  that 
Mr.   Leonard  had   set  off  on  his  journey  to 


250  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

S to  bring  home  his  little  Grace.     Mrs. 

Leonard  insisted  on  taking  me  up  stairs  to  see 
the  bird-cage,  as  she  called  the  pretty  room 
intended  for  Grace. 

"We  thought  these  pictures  would  amuse 
her  if  she  felt  lonely,  poor  child!"  and  Mrs. 
Leonard  pointed  to  a  couple  of  lively  repre- 
sentations of  some  kittens  at  play  and  a  mon- 
key performing  his  antics  to  the  sound  of  a 
hand-organ.  There  was  another — a  coloured 
engraving  of  a  chubby  girl  of  about  Grace's 
age  taking  her  first  lesson  in  sewing — and  over 
the  bed  hung  the  portrait  of  a  happy-faced 
three-year-old  boy  holding  a  toy  in  his  hand ; 
this  was  one  of  the  household  treasures  of  this 
lovely  old  couple,  which  God  had  taken  back 
into  his  own  keeping  many  years  ago.  The 
mother  could  look  at  the  portrait  now  with  a- 
smile,  for  the  bitterness  of  the  trial  had  passed 
away,  and  she  felt  that  it  would  not  be  very 
Jong  before  she  too  would  be  called  to  the  home 
where  there  are  no  more  partings  from  beloved 
ones. 

"  Well,  Miss  Martin,  how  do  you  think  our 
daughter  Grace  will  like  her  home  ?."  the  old 
lady  asked  as  we  turned  from  the  room. 

"  I  think  she  would  be  an  ungrateful  little 


AN  EVENING  AT  THE  PAHSONAGE.   251 

person  if  she  did  not  consider  her  new  lot  a 
a  very  happy  one,"  said  I.  "  But  no  fear  of 
that,  for  Grace  is  as  cheery  as  a  humming- 
bird, and  if  you  and  Mr.  Leonard  will  let  her 
climb  on  your  lap  at  any  hour  of  the  day  to 
claim  a  dozen  kisses,  and  keep  her  supplied 
with  candy  and  fairy  stories,  she  will  live  in 
perpetual  sunshine." 

Mrs.  Leonard  laughed  her  hearty,  genial 
laugh  at  my  list  of  Grace's  requirements,  and 
that  was  a  complete  assurance  that  she  was 
prepared  to  grant  any  amount  of  such  simple 
demands. 

He  who  has  said,  "  Leave  your  fatherless 
children  to  me,"  was  richly  providing  for  this 
fatherless  and  motherless  one. 


CHAPTEE    XXI. 

A  GREAT  SORROW. 

twHE  first  week  of  May  brought  an  event 
IB  of  much,  importance  to  our  little  circle, 
ft?  — the  marriage  of  Alice  King.  For 
some  time  previous  Euth's  nimble 
fingers  had  been  busied  in  her  friend's 
behalf,  and  her  taste  and  knowledge  of  the 
New  York  styles  had  made  her  quite  an  oracle 
in  all  the  important  questions  about  the  wed- 
ding preparations.  Mr.  West  came  on  a  few 
days  before  the  one  appointed  for  the  event, 
and  though  nominally  visiting  his  uncle  Leon- 
ard, continued  to  spend  the  greater  part  of  his 
time  in  Mrs.  King's  parlour. 

"Vexatious  man  that  he  is!"  was  Kitty's 
frequent  exclamation ;  "he  is  not  content  with 
taking  dear  Alice  away  from  us  altogether,  but 
must  steal  from  us  the  few  remaining  days  of 
her  life  at  home.  As  for  Alice,  she  does  not 
seem  to  care  whether  her  new  dresses  fit  her 
or  not,  and  if  mother  or  I  venture  to  ask  how 

252 


A   GREAT    SORROW.  253 

a  thing  shall  be  trimmed,  or  what  she  would 
prefer,  she  replies  with  such  sweet  indifference 
that  she  will  leave  it  all  to  our  taste,  and  she 
is  sure  everything  will  be  just  right." 

I  would  tell  Kitty  when  she  expressed  such 
murmuring  that  no  doubt  her  sister  was  think- 
ing more  about  the  new  duties  she  was  about 
to  undertake,  and  the  new  home  she  was  to 
make  happy,  than  these  less  important  mat- 
ters.    Her  reply  would  always  be, 

"Well,  Miss  Martin,  I  can't  at  all  under- 
stand religious  folks.  It  is  just  as  you  say;  Ihave 
heard  Alice  inquiring  of  Mr.  West  about  the 
prosperity  of  his  Sunday-school,  and  about  the 
poor  people  in  the  parish,  and  whether  it  would 
not  be  well  for  her  to  try  and  establish  a  female 
prayer-meeting.  Now,  if  I  were  going  to  be 
married,  I  should  want  to  have  the  prettiest 
dresses  and  the  nicest  wardrobe  possible.  I 
would  go  to  the  city  and  have  all  my  things 
made,  and  as  for  the  wedding,  you  would  not 
catch  me  wearing  a  travelling-dress  and  start- 
ing off  next  day  without  any  reception,  or  any- 
thing else  in  proper  style." 

"But  Alice  is  to  have  her  special  friends 
remain  after  the  ceremony,"  I  said,  "  and  I 
know  that  the  cake  is  ordered,  and  that  your 

22 


254  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

mother  is  exerting  all  her  skill  in  preparing 
nice  refreshments  for  the  occasion." 

"  It  don't  come  up  to  my  ideas,"  Kitty  would 
persist.  "  If  I  had  to  marry  a  poor  minister 
and  be  shut  out  from  society  all  the  rest  of  my 
days  in  a  miserable  western  wilderness,  I  would 
have  all  the  fun  I  could  beforehand." 

After  these  gay  outpourings  of  Kitty's  sen- 
timents, Euth  would  say  to  me  again  and 
again : 

"  How  I  wish  dear  Kitty  were  a  Christian  ! 
She  does  not  in  the  least  understand  Alice's 
feelings,  and  she  seems  to  grow  only  more 
giddy  and  thoughtless." 

"  We  must  pray  that  the  Lord  will  change 
her  heart,"  I  replied,  one  day,  when  she  ex- 
pressed herself  thus.  "  Who  knows  but  that 
he  is  preparing*  for  her  some  solemn  event,  as 
he  so  lately  did  for  you,  dear,  and  will  thus 
lead  her  heart  to  him  ?" 

"  Yes,  auntie,  I  am  too  apt  to  forget  how  ob- 
stinate I  have  been  all  these  years,  and  how  it 
was  necessary  for  God  almost  to  take  my  life 
away  in  order  to  make  me  yield  to  him." 

Euth  was  so  humble  now  when  any  allusion 
was  made  to  the  past  that  I  sometimes  said 
to  myself,  "  Can  this  be  the  little  girl  who 


A   GREAT   SORROW.  255 

thought  herself  once  too  good  and  too  wise  to 
need  to  go  to  Sunday-school?" 

We  saw  Mr.  West  several  times  during  his 
visit,  ani  our  first  favourable  impressions  of 
the  young  minister  were  deepened.  He  was 
quiet  and  retiring  in  his  manners,  but  if  any 
subject  were  introduced  in  conversation  which 
touched  a  chord  in  his  own  heart  (and  any- 
thing relating  to  God's  work  on  earth  seemed 
to  do  that),  his  reserve  quite  vanished,  and  his 
countenance  was  at  once  lighted  with  an  enthu- 
siasm that  was  contagious. 

"  Ah,  my  ambitious  Ruth,"  I  said  to  her  when 
Alice  and  Mr.  West  had  taken  their  leave  after 
an  evening  call  on  us,  "I  think  your  friend  is 
going  to  do  something  far  better  than  shining 
in  society  or  becoming  an  authoress." 

"  I  think  so  too,  auntie,"  said  Ruth,  laugh- 
ing ;  then  with  a  sudden  shade  of  seriousness 
passing  over  her  face,  she  continued,  "  Oh  that 
I  were  as  sure  of  doing  some  good  in  the 
world !" 

Charlie  found  it  possible  to  come  home  to 
see  his  sister  married,  but  returned  to  the  city 
the  following  morning.  Our  dear  friend,  Miss 
Chester,  was  present  also,  to  the  great  delight 
of  all  her  former   scholars.     She   had  been 


256  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

obliged  to  take  a  vacation  from  her  work  at 
the  South  on  account  of  her  health,  and  it  so 
happened  that  her  steps  were  turned  north- 
ward just  in  time  for  the  greeting  and  farewell 
to  Alice.  She  remained  a  week  after  .the  de- 
parture of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  West  for  their  distant 
home,  to  aid  Kitty  in  comforting  Mrs.  King  and 
lightening  the  first  pressure  of  loneliness  that 
was  felt  by  the  few  remaining  members  of  the 
family.  It  was  a  source  of  great  pleasure  to  Ruth, 
this  renewal  of  intercourse  with  her  dearly-loved 
teacher.  During  the  mild,  sunshiny  days  of 
this  latest  month  of  spring,  many  were  the 
pleasant  walks  and  rides  taken  by  the  three 
friends,  for  Kitty  always  accompanied  Miss 
Chester  and  Euth  on  these  excursions.  Our 
invalid  had  now  almost  ceased  to  need  the 
name,  and  was  steadily  regaining  her  strength 
and  a  tinge  of  healthy  colour  in  her  face.  She 
had  undertaken  the  charge  of  a  class  of  little 
girls  in  Sunday-school,  among  whom  was  her 
pet,  Grace  Leonard.  This  work  was  a  source 
of  much  enjoyment  to  the  young  Christian. 
Every  Sunday  morning  found  her  engaged  in 
prayer  for  each  member  of  her  class,  and  she 
lost  no  opportunity  of  seeking  to  make  the 
name  of  Jesus  sweet  to  these  little  lambs  of 


A   GREAT   SORROW.  257 

his  flock.  Her  interest  in  Mary  Jane  Harris 
still  continued,  and  it  was  shown  in  serious 
efforts  for  her  soul's  welfare  now,  since  Mary 
Jane  by  her  faithful  labour  was  able  to  pro- 
vide for  her  own  bodily  wants,  as  well  as  to 
help  her  mother  by  adding  many  a  little  com- 
fort to  the  widow's  plain  but  neat  and  comfort- 
able home.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leonard  considered 
their  adopted  daughter  too  young  yet  to  be 
placed  at  school,  but  they  gladly  accepted 
Kuth's  proposition  to  teach  Grace  an  hour  or 
two  daily.  The  child  was  so  fond  of  her  young 
teacher  that  not  only  during  school-hours,  but 
on  every  possible  occasion,  she  was  by  her  side. 
Again  a  letter  came  from  Africa.  This  time 
it  brought  the  positive  assurance  that  Mr. 
Allerton's  health  made  a  long  sea- voyage  ne- 
cessary, and  that  he  proposed  taking  passage 
in  a  trading-vessel,  which  was  at  the  time  of 
his  writing  anchored  at  some  not  very  distant 
settlement  on  the  coast.  In  spite  of  his  bodily 
sufferings  and  his  ardent  regret  at  leaving  for 
so  long  a  time  his  missionary  duties,  he  was 
looking  forward  with  great  delight  to  seeing  his 
beloved  Euth  once  more  arid  spending  some 
months  in  the  company  of  "Sister  Phebe" 
and  his  long-absent  child.     He  could  not  tell 

22*  R 


258  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

us  just  when  the  vessel  would  start  on  its  home- 
ward course,  but  said,  "  You  may  keep  watching 
any  time  after  the  first  of  July  for  a  haggard- 
faced,  parchment-skinned  old  person  in  a  very 
seedy  suit  of  clothes — that  is,  unless  I  can  stop 
long  enough  in  New  York  to  renew  my  ward- 
robe." 

Buth  was  all  eagerness  to  welcome  her  father, 
and  now  that  there  was  a  definite  hope  before 
her,  she  was  busy  making  plans  for  the  dear 
guest's  comfort  when  he  should  arrive. 

"  We  must  have  some  new  curtains  for  the 
west  chamber,  auntie,  and  I  will  lend  papa  the 
lounge  in  my  room,  it  is  so  wide  and  comfort- 
able. Then  I  know  you  will  let  me  choose 
the  books  he  will  enjoy  reading  out  of  the  little 
library,  and  I  will  fill  that  shelf  by  the  window 
with  them." 

So  she  went  on  with  the  enumeration  of  her 
loving  plans,  and  to  most  of  them  I  yielded 
ready  consent,  knowing  how  important  to  the 
feeble  and  overworked  man  the  little  attentions 
to  personal  comfort  would  be,  and  how  grateful 
to  the  eyes  so  long  unaccustomed  to  civilized 
surroundings  would  be  the  improvements  to  the 
room  suggested  by  Ruth's  loving  thought. 

June  passed,  and  July  was  on  the  wane,  and 


A   GREAT   SORROW.  259 

the  expected  guest  did  not  arrive,  nor  yet  a 
letter  accounting  for  the  delay.  Each  morning 
when  we  met  Ruth  and  I  would  comfort  each 
other  with  the  words,  "  Perhaps  he  will  come 
to-day/'  and  as  each  night  closed  in  without 
the  fulfilment  of  the  morning's  hope,  we  would 
puzzle  our  brains  to  invent  new  possibilities  to 
account  for  the  disappointment.  True  indeed 
are  the  Scripture  words,  "Hope  deferred 
maketh  the  heart  sick."  Ruth  began  to  look 
pale  and  careworn,  and  to  lose  her  appetite, 
through  this  daily  increasing  anxiety. 

One  sultry  day  at  the  close  of  the  month  I 
was  unusually  busy  in  the  kitchen  preserving 
some  fruit.  I  say  "  unusually,"  because  of 
late  years  my  strength  had  failed  somewhat, 
and  I  had  been  forced  to  give  up  many  duties 
to  Ruth  and  the  faithful  Rose  that  I  used  to 
consider  my  own  particular  work.  This  time 
I  was  trying  a  new  recipe  with  my  fruit,  and 
would  not  trust  the  matter  out  of  my  hands. 
I  saw  Ruth  and  her  little  pupil  Grace  pass 
through  the  gate  hand  in  hand  late  in  the 
afternoon,  and  so,  taking  it  for  granted  they 
had  gone  for  a  long  walk,  I  finished  my  work 
in  a  leisurely  way,  and  then  sat  down  in  my 
own  room.     A  favourite  book  absorbed   my 


260  EUTH   ALLEETON. 

attention  until  the  bell  rang  for  tea,  and  then, 
before  descending  the  stairs,  I  knocked  at 
Ruth's  door,  doubtful  if  she  had  yet  returned 
from  her  walk.  Her  low  chair  at  the  window 
where  she  was  wont  to  sit  at  this  hour  on 
summer  evenings  was  vacant,  and  I  was 
about  to  turn  away,  thinking  she  was  still  ab- 
sent, when  a  heavy  sob  from  the  recess  where 
the  bed  stood  recalled  me.  Ruth  was  kneel- 
ing there,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands  and 
her  whole  frame  trembling  with  intense  emo- 
tion. 

"  My  dear  child,"  I  exclaimed  when  I  saw 
her  thus,  "my  poor  Ruth,  what  has  hap- 
pened?" 

She  made  me  no  answer,  but  turning  her 
face  for  a  moment,  pointed  to  an  open  letter 
on  the  table,  and  then  covering  her  eyes 
again,  burst  into  one  great  cry  of  anguish.  I 
took  the  paper  and  silently  left  the  room. 

"  Whatever  trouble  has  come  upon  her,"  I 
thought,  "it  is  best  for  her  to  meet  it  alone 
with  her  great  Comforter  first."  Calling  then 
to  Rose  to  remove  the  untasted  meal  and  take 
her  own  tea,  I  went  back  to  my  room  to  read 
the  letter.  It  bore  the  usual  marks  of  the 
African  letters,  but  was  addressed  to  "Miss 


A   GREAT   SORROW.  261 

Ruth  Allerton  "  in  an  unfamiliar  handwriting, 
and  to  Ohio  instead  of  Connecticut.  It  had 
evidently  been  travelling  about  the  country 
for  weeks,  and  bore  several  different  post- 
marks. I  glanced  at  the  signature.  It  was 
the  name  of  a  fellow-missionary  of  whom  Mr. 
Allerton  had  several  times  made  mention. 
The  terrible  truth  flashed  across  my  mind  at 
once,  and  I  had  no  courage  for  several  mo- 
ments to  read  the  tidings  I  knew  those  brief 
pages  contained.  When  my  self-control  re- 
turned sufficiently  for  me  to  do  so,  my  worst 
fears  were  confirmed.  Ruth's  father  was 
dead.  "  He  had  made  light  of  his  disease," 
wrote  the  sympathizing  missionary,  "  and  even 
up  to  the  day  before  he  was  taken  from  us 
retained  the  hope  of  being  able  to  take  passage 
in  the  vessel  then  about  to  start  for  America." 
Then  followed  affectionate  expressions  concern- 
ing the  loss  this  dear  brother  was  felt  to  be, 
not  only  to  the  little  band  of  labourers  with 
whom  he  had  been  so  many  years  associated, 
but  to  the  Lord's  work  in  that  heathen  land. 
"  He  was  so  wise  and  prudent  and  yet  so  zeal- 
ous in  all  his  undertakings,"  was  the  wording 
of  the  letter,  "  that  no  one  in  the  mission  was 
so  successful  in  winning  souls  to  Christ  as  he. 


262  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

We  looked  up  to  him  as  our  leader,  and  could 
almost  have  uttered  the  exclamation  of  Elisha 
when  a  greater  prophet  was  removed :  '  My 
father,  my  father,  the  chariot  of  Israel  and 
the  horsemen  thereof !'  "  The  letter  concluded 
with  many  expressions  of  tender  sympathy  for 
the  bereaved  daughter.  Her  name,  the  writer 
said,  was  the  last  intelligible  sound  from  the 
lips  of  the  dying  man.  There  was  one  sen- 
tence in  the  description  of  his  last  hours  which 
I  read  and  re-read,  wondering  what  effect  it 
would  have  upon  Ruth's  sensitive  heart.  It 
was  this  :  "  Your  father,  when  conscious  that 
his  end  was  drawing  near,  called  me  to  his 
bedside  and  asked  me  to  write  to  you  as  soon 
as  all  was  ovep.  \  Tell  my  child,'  he  whispered, 
'  that  for  many  years  my  prayer  for  her  has 
been  that  God  might  lead  her  to  follow  her 
mother  and  me  in  the  missionary  work ;  I  do 
not  ask  this  sacrifice  of  her  for  my  sake,  but  I 
die  leaving  it  for  God's  providence  and  her 
own  heart  to  decide.'  " 

Long  I  sat  there  in  the  gathering  twilight 
thinking  of  the  beloved  brother  now  resting 
from  his  labours,  and  my  heart  went  back  to 
the  past,  and  traced  step  by  step  the  Lord's 
dealings  with  me  and  those  dearest  to  me,  up 


A   GREAT   SORROW.  263 

to  this  present  grief.  Through  the  thin  clouds 
on  that  tender-hued  twilight  sky  at  which  I 
was  gazing  flowed  the  last  rays  of  sunlight, 
tempered  but  not  hidden  by  the  veil  between 
them  and  the  earth.  "Just  so,"  I  thought, 
"  it  has  been  with  all  these  events  that  mem- 
ory brings  before  me.  I  could  see  at  each  new 
trial  only  the  cloud  itself,  until,  after  years 
of  experience  of  God's  dealings,  I  begin  to  un- 
derstand his  mercy  shining  through.  This 
trial  at  present  seems  not  joyous,  but  grievous, 
but  some  day  God  will  surely  explain  it  to 
Euth  and  me.  I  closed  the  window,  hum- 
ming the  two  lines  of  that  familiar  hymn, 

"  In  each  event  of  life  how  clear    . 
Thy  ruling  hand  I  see !" 

brought  forcibly  to  mind  by  the  last  hour's 
meditation ;  then  I  went  to  seek  my  sorrow- 
ing Ruth. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

SELF-  CONSEGRA  TION. 

HE  heavy  sobbings  had  ceased,  and 
while  I  stood  listening  outside  of  the 
half-open  door  of  Ruth's  bedroom, 
doubting  whether  she  would  feel  like 
seeing  any  one  that  night,  she  said  in 
a  tranquil  voice : 

"  Come  in,  dear  auntie ;  I  have  been  hoping 
you  would  come.  It  will  do  us  both  good  to 
talk  together." 

I  entered  and  sat  down  by  my  child,  now 
more  mine  than  ever  before,  because  of  her 
complete  orphanhood.  She  drew  a  cushion 
up  beside  me  and  seated  herself  there,  put- 
ting her  head  in  my  lap  in  a  way  which  al- 
ways meant  a  request  for  sympathy  or  caress- 
ing. She  needed  both  in  good  measure  that 
evening,  and  I  was  very  ready  to  bestow  them. 
I  stroked  her  hair  for  some  moments  in 
silence,  then  said : 

264  4 


SELF-CONSECRATION.  2G5 

"  This  news  has  come  as  a  very  sudden  blow 
to  you,  darling.  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  have 
told  you  more  plainly  my  own  fears  that  your 
father  would  not  recover." 

"  No,  Aunt  Phebe,  if  you  had  done  so,  it 
would  have  .deprived  me  of  many  days  of 
happy  expectations.  I  have  enjoyed  more 
than  even  you  can  guess  in  looking  forward 
to  papa's  visit  and  building  my  air-castles." 

Directly  she  added : 

"  Now  I  can  see  why  I  was  so  nearly  killed 

at  S .     If  I  had  not  then  learned  to  love 

my  heavenly  Father,  how  could  I  now  endure 
the  loss  of  my  earthly  one  ?  How  unspeakably 
good  God  is !" 

"  It  takes  a  great  load  from  my  heart,"  I 
said,  "  to  hear  you  speak  so.  God's  consola- 
tions always  far  outmeasure  our  afflictions,  if 
we  will  only  reach  out  our  hands  to  receive 
them ;  and  just  as  surely  as  you  now  see  his 
loving  reason  for  allowing  that  accident  to  be- 
fall you,  so  in  due  time  you  will  learn  to  look 
back  upon  this  great  trial.  '  What  I  do  thou 
knowest  not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  here- 
after.' Do  not  those  words  comfort  you,  my 
darling  ?" 

"Oh,  auntie,  it  will  take  me  some  time,  I 

23 


266  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

am  afraid,  to  grow  used  to  the  knowledge  that 
I  have  no  longer  a  father.  I  have  thought 
and  dreamed  and  planned  through  all  these 
weeks  with  entire  reference  to  his  coming 
home,  and  now,  in  one  hour,  all  my  hopes  are 
blotted  out.  I  know  how  I  ought  to  feel ;  I 
know  that  God  is  good,  and  that  every  word 
you  have  spoken  is  just  right,  but  oh — "  and 
here  the  poor  girl  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  began  crying  as  bitterly  as  ever. 
"  Help  me  to  bear  it !  help  me  to  feel  aright !" 

"  We  will  try  to  bear  it  together,  Kuth,"  I 
said,  kissing  her ;  "  but  we  must  not  talk  any 
longer  now.  Bathe  your  eyes,  dear,  and  go 
to  bed,  for  you  are  quite  exhausted,  and  will 
be  sick  to-morrow  if  you  do  not  rest  now. 
For  my  sake,  try  not  to  weep  any  more." 

I  knew  that  this  argument  would  prevail. 
Even  before  I  left  the  room  Kuth  had  begun 
following  my  advice  with  a  quiet  obedience, 
like  a  little  child. 

The  next  day  I  wrote  to  Mrs.  Holden,  in- 
forming her  of  her  brother's  death,  and  a  week 
later  received  a  reply,  expressing  her  grief  in 
the  most  proper  language  and  on  note  paper 
with  the  deepest  black  edge.  She  was  afraid, 
she  said,  that  John  had  not  left  a  cent  for  his 


SELF-CONSECRATION.  267 

daughter;  "he  never  had  a  particle  of  pru- 
dence about  money  matters,"  but  she  would 
strongly  recommend  her  niece  to  write  with- 
out delay  to  the  treasurer  of  the  mission  to  see 
if  there  was  not  something  due  to  her  father 
at  the  time  of  his  death.  It  might  be  a  trifle, 
she  said,  but  if  it  was  only  enough  to  buy 
Ruth's  mourning  it  would  be  something 
gained.  She  gave  Ruth  a  cordial  invitation 
to  come  to  New  York  for  the  purpose  of 
selecting  her  dresses,  and  offered  to  engage 

Madame  B at  once  to  make  them  for  her, 

if  she  wished. 

"  I  wouldn't  think  of  purchasing  an  article 
there  at  Ferndale,"  she  continued,  "  for  mourn- 
ing is  either  the  most  stylish  or  the  most  com- 
mon-looking dress  one  can  wear,  and  as  for 
country  dressmakers,  Ruth  must  not  think  of 
trusting  one  of  them  to  make  her  things."  The 
letter  concluded  with  a  request  for  an  imme- 
diate answer,  stating  by  what  train  Ruth 
might  be  expected. 

Ruth  smiled  sadly  when  she  read  her  aunt 
Esther's  worldly  but  well-meant  suggestions. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go  on  and  make  your  aunt 
a  visit?"  I  asked,  feeling  very  sure  what  the 
answer  would  be. 


268  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

"I  do  not  care  ever  to  see  New  York 
again,"  said  Ruth,  "and  certainly  not  just 
now.  As  for  my  dresses,  you  know  Miss  Bus- 
sell  has  them  nearly  finished.  Poor  Aunt 
Esther  would  be  quite  distressed  to  see  me  in 
a  suit  bought  and  made  up  in  Ferndale,  would 
she  not?" 

"  Ruth,  my  child,"  I  said,  resolving,  with  a 
mighty  effort,  to  enter  upon  a  subject  which 
had  caused  me  no  little  anxious  thought, 
"  your  aunt  Esther  and  I  are  now  your  near- 
est relatives.  She  has  always  been  fond  of 
you,  and  would  doubtless  like  to  have  you 
make  your  home  with  her.  You  know  how 
often  she  has  asked  me  to  give  you  up  to  her. 
You  are  now  old  enough  to  judge  what  would 
make  you  happiest,  and  circumstances  call 
upon  you  to  decide." 

"  Do  you  want  to  send  me  from  you,  Aunt 
Phebe  ?"  Ruth  asked,  very  slowly  and  sadly. 

"  Send  you  from  me!"  I  said ;  "  why,  are  you 
not  all  that  I  have  in  the  world  to  love  ?  are 
you  not  to  me  in  the  place  of  sister  and 
daughter,  and  every  other  sweet  relationship 
that  other  women  enjoy?  Send  you  from  me! 
Why,  I  would  as  soon  think  of  sending  the 
blessed  sunshine  out  of  my  dwelling!" 


SELF-CONSECRATION.  269 

"Then,  auntie/'  Ruth  replied,  with  a  smile 
returning  to  her  clouded  face,  "  you  must  not 
talk  of  my  going  to  live  with  anybody  else.  I 
shall  have  to  adopt  the  language  in  addressing 
you  which  my  great  namesake  in  the  Bible 
used  to  her  mother-in-law  if  you  talk  so  any 
more." 

"  Will  you,  then,  be  content  to  live  always 
with  me,  my  darling  ?  It  will  not  be  so  well 
for  you,  in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  as  to  go  to 
your  aunt  Esther.  I  am  getting  more  feeble 
each  year,  less  able  to  go  about  with  you,  or 
to  make  home  attractive  to  you,  and  when  I 
am  taken  away,  I  shall  have  little  to  leave  you 
besides  this  old  house  and  its  furniture.  I  was 
thinking  of  your  future  when  I  suggested  your 
going  to  live  with  Aunt  Esther." 

Ruth  turned  a  pair  of  tearful  eyes  towards 
me  and  said :  "  Auntie  dear,  it  is  time  for  me 
to  tell  you  all  that  is  in  my  heart.  Do  not 
think  me  ungrateful  or  unloving  to  you,  who 
have  been  as  a  mother  to  me  all  these  years, 
when  you  hear  my  determination.  Do  you  re- 
member papa's  last  message  to  me?" 

"  I  do."  It  was  all  the  answer  I  could 
make,  for  all  that  Ruth  was  about  to  say 
flashed  across  my  mind  at  that  question. 

23* 


270  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  those  words  and 
praying  over  them  ever  since,  auntie." 

"  And  do  you  think  it  is  the  Lord's  will  that 
you  should  go  to  Africa  as  a  missionary?" 

"  Yes,  auntie." 

"  Then  his  holy  will  be  done !  I  will  not 
be  a  stumbling-block  in  the  path  of  your  duty. 
I  learned  a  lesson  about  that,  Ruth,  when  your 
mother  was  called  to  that  work.  I  used  my 
influence  against  what  I  considered  a  mis- 
guided zeal,  and  advised  her  to  be  satisfied 
with  doing  Christian  work  about  her  own  home. 
I  was  only  fighting  against  Grod,  though  I 
thought  I  was  giving  her  the  wisest  and  most 
righteous  counsel,  for  it  was  his  call,  and  that 
alone,  that  was  echoing  in  her  soul.  I  will  not 
hinder  Lucy's  child  from  doing  her  duty." 

We  talked  a  long  time  together,  and  consid- 
ered Ruth's  plan  in  all  its  details.  "  You  will 
have  to  write  to  the  Committee  of  Foreign 
Missions  and  make  a  full  statement  of  the 
matter,  and  a  formal  offer  of  your  services  for 
the  African  field,"  I  said. 

"Yes,  and  I  have  been  thinking,  auntie, 
that  it  would  be  well  for  me  to  go  to  Mr. 
Leonard  and  tell  him  my  wish.  He  will  be 
glad,  I  know,  and  will  be  able  to  advise  me." 


SELF-CONSECKATION.  271 

"  Then  you  have  not  yet  informed  him  of 
your  resolve?"  I  questioned,  feeling  a  little 
surprised,  for  our  dear  old  pastor  had  called 
to  see  us  repeatedly  since  the  sad  news  came, 
and  Euth  kept  hardly  a  thought  secret  from 
him.  Then,  too,  it  was  he  who  had  indirectly 
suggested  this  very  step  the  evening  of  the 
sociable. 

"No,  I  wanted  to  talk  with  you  about  it 
first ;  besides,  it  has  taken  me  all  this  time  to 
make  myself  willing.  You  see,  auntie,  going 
to  Africa  has  none  of  the  romance  and  charm 
of  novelty  for  me  that  it  might  possess  for  other 
girls.  I  have  heard  many  speak  of  it  in  a 
poetical  sort  of  way,  as  if  palm  trees,  orange 
groves,  and  sunny  skies  were  all  that  was  to  be 
seen  in  Africa.  I  understand  the  realities  of 
missionary  work  there,  and  in  undertaking  it 
it  will  be  with  my  eyes  open.  There  is  nothing 
so  very  attractive  in  spending  one's  life  among 
dirty  and  ignorant  people,  in  a  climate  that 
wears  out  the  constitution  by  degrees,  even  if 
the  fever  do  not  take  you  off  at  once,  and  where, 
if  there  are  plenty  of  oranges  and  other  fruits, 
you  may  suffer  for  the  lack  of  a  good  piece  of 
meat,  and  feel  that  you  would  give  a  cart  load 
of  tropical  fruits  for  one  Irish  potato." 


272  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

Buth  was  laughing  at  her  own  description, 
but  to  me  it  did  not  seem  at  all  a  lively  view 
of  the  case. 

"  Are  you  sure,  quite  sure,  dear,  that  when 
you  come  to  the  experience  of  all  this  you  will 
not  repent  of  your  resolve,  and  wish,  when  too 
late,  that  you  were  home  again  in  Ferndale?" 

"  Quite  sure,  Aunt  Phebe,  because  He  who 
giveth  strength  to  the  weak  has  undertaken  to 
make  even  me,  sinful  and  foolish  as  I  am,  a 
worker  for  him.  I  know  that  I  am  called  by 
God  to  join  that  mission,  and  that  answers  all 
doubts  and  decides  all  difficulties." 

Kuth  went  to  talk  with  Mr.  Leonard.  The 
good  old  man  was  overjoyed  at  her  resolution, 
and  expressed  the  wish  that  he  had  a  dozen 
children  to  follow  in  her  steps.  By  his  advice 
she  wrote  a  business-like  letter  to  the  com- 
mittee, stating  her  wish,  her  qualifications  for 
the  work  as  regarded  bodily  health  as  well  as 
mental  ability,  and  asking  to  be  sent  out  by 
the  earliest  opportunity. 

"  They  are  not  likely  to  refuse  your  applica- 
tion, my  dear,  when  they  know  that  both  your 
parents  laboured  and  died  in  that  very  mis- 
sion," said  Mr.  Leonard. 

Nevertheless,  Kuth,  whose  feeling  of  unwor- 


SELF-CONSECRATION.  273 

thiness  grew  stronger  as  her  friends  saw  less 
cause  for  it  in  her  rapidly-developing  Chris- 
tian character,  seemed  very  fearful  that  she 
might  be  refused  by  the  committee.  When 
the  answer  arrived,  it  contained  a  definite 
appointment  of  Miss  Ruth  Allerton  as  mis- 
sionary teacher  to  Africa,  and  a  request  that 
she  would  make  preparations  to  take  passage 
in  a  vessel  that  was  to  sail  early  in  April  for 
that  coast. 

I  rejoiced  that  she  was  not  to  go  for  several 
months  at  least.  The  trial  of  losing  my  dar- 
ling seemed,  at  times,  heavier  than  I  could 
bear.  It  was  all  the  harder  for  me,  too,  be- 
cause I  could  not  utter  my  selfish  repinings 
to  her  and  ask  for  sympathy,  when  she  was 
cheerfully  resigning  all  the  pleasures  and  com- 
forts of  life  at  her  Master's  call.  That  many 
tears  were  shed  in  secret  by  this  brave  young 
soldier,  I  knew — that  the  struggle  was  even 
yet  a  hard  one  for  her  loving  heart,  I  was 
convinced  by  the  snatches  of  hymns  that  often 
reached  my  ear  from  her  chamber,  such  as, 

"  Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 
All  to  leave  and  follow  thee," 


and 


"  Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss 
Thy  sovereign  will  denies." 

S 


274  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

One  day  I  had  occasion  to  go  in  Ruth's 
room  while  she  was  out,  and  saw  her  little 
Bible  lying  open  on  the  table  with  the  marks 
of  tears  on  the  page.  It  was  the  tenth  chap- 
ter of  Matthew's  Gospel,  and  there  were  pencil 
marks  from  the  thirty-seventh  to  the  thirty- 
ninth  verse.  The  book  opened  most  readily 
at  some  of  the  Psalms  wherein  David  poured 
out  his  whole  heart  in  sorrowful  petitions  to 
his  God.  Thus  I  knew  that  behind  the  cheer- 
ful looks  and  resolute  words  of  my  niece 
there  was  deep  suffering  in  view  of  the  future. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

RUTH'S  RETURN  TO  AFRICA. 

*  HEN  the  fact  became  generally  known 
in  Ferndale  that  Ruth  Allerton  was 


going  to  Africa,  there  were  various 
opinions  expressed  and  a  good  deal 
of  advice  offered,  and  people  called  to 
see  her,  some  for  friendship's  sake  and  others 
out  of  mere  curiosity  to  ask  if  the  report  were 
really  true.  The  poor  girl  was  often  grieved, 
sometimes  much  amused,  and,  after  a  time, 
thoroughly  tired  of  all  these  questions  and 
comments.  It  is  so  hard  for  even  religious 
people  to  comprehend  an  action  performed 
purely  from  a  sense  of  duty.  One  friend 
said: 

"Well,  Miss  Allerton,  I  suppose,  as  you 
were  born  in  that  country,  the  climate  will 
agree  with  you  better  than  this,  and  it  is  nat- 
ural you  should  wish  to  return." 

Another,  a  man  whose  chief  thought  was  of 

275 


276  RUTH  ALLERTON. 

dollars  and  cents,  remarked  that  "  no  doubt  a 
female  teacher  would  obtain  a  higher  salary- 
out  there  than  here  at  home,  and  living  must 
be  cheap,  so  that  maybe  it  would  be  a  good 
speculation,  after  all."  Mrs.  Kandolph,  a 
friend  who  came  to  see  Euth,  exclaimed, 

"  Dear  me !  you  will  have  no  society  at  all. 
How  will  you  exist  there  among  the  sav- 
ages ?" 

Others  remarked,  with  implied  reproof,  that 
we  should  be  satisfied  with  the  duties  that 
were  around  us,  and  that  it  was  not  right  to 
be  so  ambitious,  and  so  on. 

Sometimes,  when  one  of  these  visitors  took 
leave,  Euth  would  burst  into  a  fit  of  crying 
and  wish  that  she  could  start  off  at  once.  She 
said,  one  day : 

"It  is  hard  enough  for  me,  auntie,  without 
all  this  criticism,  and  it  is  useless  to  try  and 
explain  my  motives,  for  people  will  not  look 
at  things  as  I  do." 

Among  the  callers  were  our  old  acquaint- 
ances, Mrs.  Gilbert  and  Sue. 

"  Well,  I  never !"  was  the  salutation  of  the 
latter.  "  I  always  thought  you  were  a  queer 
girl,  but  this  notion  of  going  to  Africa  beats 
everything." 


RUTH'S   RETURN  TO   AFRICA.  277 

"  I  brought  up  my  girls  to  think  they  ought 
to  be  modest  and  retiring/'  said  Mrs.  Gilbert. 
"Not  meaning  any  offence,  Ruth,  my  dear, 
but  I  am  old  fashioned  in  my  notions,  and 
don't  approve  of  women  making  themselves 
known  in  public."  * 

Euth  heard  these  remarks  in  silence,  for,  as 
she  had  said,  it  was  quite  useless  to  explain 
those  sacred  feelings  which  influenced  her  to 
leave  all  and  follow  her  Saviour  in  the  thorny 
path  which  he  had  marked  out  for  her. 

Sue  Gilbert,  since  tjie  death  of  her  sister, 
had  banished  whatever  serious  impressions 
were  made  upon  her  by  that  event,  and  was 
now  a  dashing  young  woman,  whose  life  was 
being  frittered  away  in  following  the  fashions 
as  nearly  as  she  could  with  a  rather  limited 
allowance,  and  making  annual  visits  to  city 
friends,  or  to  some  gay  summer  resort. 

Of  much  the  same  tone  with  these  remarks 
was  the  long  letter  of  expostulation  which 
Ruth  received  from  her  aunt  Esther.  That 
person  was  greatly  disappointed  in  her  niece, 
"  of  whom  she  had  hoped  better  things,"  she 
said,  "  but  there  must  be  a  queer  streak  in  the 
family,  for  dear  John  was  just  so  crazy  when 
he  was  a  young  man,  and  persisted  in  throw- 

24 


278  EUTH   ALLERTON. 

ing  himself  away,  in  that  outlandish  place, 
against  the  wishes  of  his  friends.  Her  only- 
hope  was  that  Birth's  good  sense  would  yet 
come  to  her  aid,  and  she  would  change  her 
mind  before  it  was  time  to  sail." 

It  ^was  a  comfort  to  Ruth,  in  the  midst  of 
all  this  opposition,  to  have  long  quiet  talks  with 
Mr.  Leonard  or  Mrs.  King,  who  heartily  sym- 
pathized with  all  Ruth's  feelings  at  this  time. 
It  rested  her  heart  too,  as  she  expressed  it,  to 
put  her  head  in  Aunt  Phebe's  lap,  in  the  even- 
ing hours  when  we  sat  alone  together,  and 
pour  out  all  her  hopes  and  fears  and  desires  in 
regard  to  that  new,  untried  life  before  her. 
A  long  letter  from  Alice  West,  brimful  of 
sympathy  for  Ruth's  great  loss,  and  encour- 
agement and  rejoicing  at  her  decision  to  be- 
come a  missionary,  afforded  her  great  help  in 
bearing  the  trying  remarks  of  less  spiritually- 
minded  friends.  Alice  told  of  her  own  great 
happiness  in  her  new  home.  Not  that  it  was 
particularly  pleasant,  she  said,  to  live  in  an  old 
shanty  that  leaked  like  a  ragged  umbrella 
during  every  rain,  to  do  her  own  house-work, 
and  to  have  nobody  about  whose  society  she 
could  really  enjoy,  but  it  was  a  great  privi- 
lege to  be  able  to  help  her  husband  in  his  work, 


ruth's  RETURN  TO  AFRICA.  279 

and  to  feel  that  she  was,  after  all,  of  some  use 
in  the  world. 

Shortly  after  Christmas,  Ruth,  received  a 
letter  from  her  kind  friend  Mrs.  Miller,  ask- 
ing as  a  great  favour  that  she  would  come  to 

S and  make  them  a  visit.    The  invitation 

was  gladly  accepted,  for  Ruth  regarded  them 
as  the  means,  under  God,  of  preserving  her  life, 
and  also  she  respected  and  loved  them  as  true 
fellow-Christians.  Little  Grace  Leonard  beg- 
ged hard  to  go  too.  She  had  by  no  means  for- 
gotten her  beloved  aunt  Jane,  and  the  idea  of 
a  journey  with  Ruth  was  perfectly  delightful 
to  the  little  lady.  Her  adopted  parents  gave 
their  consent,  and  so  Ruth  started  off  with  a 
travelling  companion  who  was  very  certain  to 
allow  her  small  chance  for  grave  reflections. 

During  that  visit  to  S Ruth  received  a 

letter  from  Kitty  King.  It  seemed  rather  sur- 
prising she  should  write,  when  her  friend  was 
only  to  be  absent  a  week,  especially  as  neither 
Kitty  nor  Ruth  belonged  to  that  sentimental 
class  of  young  ladies  who  cannot  be  separated 
without  expressing  their  emotions  on  sheet  after 
sheet  of  foolscap.  This  letter,  however,  was 
quite  different  from  any  other  Kitty  had  ever 
written.     In  it  she  told  Ruth  that  the  change 


280  RUTH   ALLERTON. 

so  long  prayed  for  by  loving  friends  had  come 
to  her,  and  that  by  G-od's  grace  she  had  re- 
solved to  lead  a  new  life.  She  did  not  explain 
her  change  of  heart  as  brought  about  by  any 
single  event.  It  had  been  slowly  dawning 
upon  her,  she  said,  that,  after  all,  her  mother 
and  Alice  and  Ruth  possessed  a  treasure  that 
was  to  her  unknown,  and  that  life  was  given 
for  some  better  purpose  than  just  enjoying 
one's  self.  Ruth's  resolution  to  become  a  mis- 
sionary had  set  her  thinking  more  seriously 
than  before  of  the  great  responsibilities  rest- 
ing upon  herself,  and  then  Mr.  Leonard  had  oi 
late  been  preaching  sermons  on  the  Saviour's 
love  and  mercy  that  seemed  meant  just  for  her, 
and  she  could  hold  out  no  longer.  She  had 
already  been  to  talk  with  Mr.  Leonard,  and 
now  expected  to  make  a  profession  of  her  faith, 
and  unite  with  the  people  of  God,  without 
delay. 

Ruth  laughed  and  cried  with  sympathizing 
joy  when  she  read  to  me  portions  of  this  letter 
after  her  return.  This  one  bond  had  been 
lacking  between  the  two  friends,  who  had 
otherwise  been  so  united  since  childish  days. 
Now  they  walked  together  as  with  one  mind, 
and  talked  and  prayed  together,  feeling  their 


RUTH'S   RETURN   TO  AFRICA.  281 

dear  Saviour  very  near  to  them.  These  days 
were  never  forgotten  by  either  of  them,  but 
formed  a  cherished  subject  for  memory  to  turn 
to  in  after  years  when  Kitty,  married,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  her  own  dear  ones,  in 
a  Southern  State,  and  Ruth  in  the  midst  of  a 
life  of  active  loving  labour  among  the  heathen, 
found  time  each  to  write  to  the  friend  of  her 
youth. 

The  months  passed  rapidly  by.  The  date 
was  fixed  for  the  sailing  of  the  vessel  which 
was  to  bear  away  from  me  the  one  comfort  and 
joy  of  my  otherwise  solitary  life.  We  became 
very  silent  when  left  alone  together  towards 
the  last,  for  our  hearts  were  so  full  that  even  a 
slight  reference  to  the  coming  trial  brought  the 
tears.  We  were  neither  of  us  brave  enough  to 
think  without  emotion  of  the  future. 

It  is  all  over  now.  More  than  a  year  ago 
my  Ruth  sailed  for  her  distant  home.  I  am  a 
lonely  old  woman,  in  an  empty  house,  whose 
only  occupation  is  to  look  after  a  few  poor 
people,  whose  comfort  the  good  Lord  has  en- 
trusted to  me  as  one  last  talent  to  be  used  for 
him ;  in  the  winter  to  knit  by  my  quiet  fire- 
side, and  in  summer  to  care   for  a   few  pet 

24* 


282  RUTH  ALLEETON. 

flowers  in  the  garden.  Eose,  faithful  as  ever, 
is  still  in  my  service,  and  Mary  Jane  occupies 
a  position  in  the  house  between  that  of  ser- 
vant and  friend.  She  does  all  my  sewing,  and 
reads  to  me,  and  performs  the  part  of  amanu- 
ensis in  replying  to  Euth's  letters,  that  interest 
her  almost  as  much  as  they  do  me,  and  in 
writing  the  latter  part  of  this  narration.  The 
most  of  it  is  gathered  from  the  journal  I  kept 
year  after  year  until  Euth  was  nearly  grown, 
and  for  the  rest  memory  has  served  me  as  well 
as  any  written  record. 

Euth  has  never  regretted  her  decision  to 
enter  upon  the  work  of  a  missionary.  The 
hardships  are  great,  she  admits,  and  it  is  of  no 
use  to  deny  that  flesh  and  blood  often  rebel 
against  the  sufferings  and  privations  of  a  life 
in  a  wMd  and  unhealthy  country,  and  the  heart 
grows  sad  at  the  experience  of  ingratitude  and 
mistrust  from  those  whom  one  seeks  to  benefit 
in  every  possible  way.  Nevertheless,  it  is  the 
holiest  and  most  satisfying  work  that  God  al- 
lows his  servants  to  do  for  him,  she  says,  and 
she  experiences  the  truth  of  the  promise  given 
to  those  who  leave  all  for  his  sake,  of  the  mani- 
fold more  blessings  in  this  present  life  as  well 
as  the  hope  that  in  the  world  to  come  she  shall 


ruth's  RETURN  TO  AFRICA.  283 

inherit  that  life  everlasting  which  is  to  be  the 
portion  of  all  who  believe  on  Jesus. 

So  her  father's  hope  was  realized,  and  my 
life  has  not  been  altogether  useless. 


THE    END. 


